


Something Lost

by Sweasley



Series: Don't F*** It Up [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Beauxbatons, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, POV Dominique Weasley, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Romance, Sex, Sibling Agnst, Sibling Bonding, Spell Damage (Harry Potter), Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 199,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweasley/pseuds/Sweasley
Summary: Dominique Weasley's seventh-year at Hogwarts has been nothing that she's expected so far, and she's only halfway through. Her relationships are being tested; not all may survive. As she nears ever closer to being finished with school for good, one thing is for sure: the only constant is change. (Part 3 of 4)Originally posted to ff.net.
Relationships: Dominique Weasley/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Don't F*** It Up [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748587
Comments: 45
Kudos: 20





	1. Seven

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize someone, they belong to JKR. The others are creations of mine to fill the gaps. Plus, any similarities are accidental and completely unintentional.
> 
> A/N: Something Lost is Part 3 of a three part story. I DO NOT recommend continuing without checking out Part 1 The Quidditch Trials and (especially) Part 2 Something Found. This story picks up directly where they left off. You'll be missing things if you don't. Don't miss things.
> 
> This story and its companions are a continuation of the world I began way back with my original Ted/Victoire series. While this trilogy will stand completely on its own and does not require you to check out the previous stories, those that have will notice that details travel in between. I personally would recommend starting from the beginning of the T/V series, but I also took the time to write everything. I obviously want you to do that. :)

Dominique Weasley's eyes opened, though she wasn't entirely sure this was true since her surroundings were currently as dark as the inside of her eyelids. Blackness. That was all she could see. In every direction, complete darkness; there wasn't even a hint of light anywhere to be found. All she could sense was cold, dank air. Wherever she was, it was musty and cold and she didn't like it.

She'd been lying on the ground—on her side—though the surface below her was soft like a thin mattress or a very thick blanket. There was nothing else she could feel—no pillows, no top covers, nothing like that. She felt herself—first her head, then her face, working her way down. Everything felt normal, though she didn't recognize the clothes she was wearing. This was not the sweatshirt and joggers she'd worn to Quidditch practice, but rather something different entirely. It was tight fitting and rather intricately detailed. She also realized she didn't have shoes on as she wiggled her toes in a completely unobstructed manner. She quickly put together that she was somewhere dark, on a soft surface, in strange clothes and no shoes.

For whatever the reason, she wasn't afraid. Confused, yes, but not afraid. The last memory she'd had was from McGonagall's office, and she'd known then that she would end up in some precarious position one way or another. She was actually a bit relieved she wasn't underwater, but—then again—her aunt had always said she had been blacked out during the entire challenge and remembered nothing; waking only once it was over. Dominique had blacked out, but she was awake now and it didn't seem as if anything was completed. Had Louis finished whatever this was? If so, why was she still here? Why was it so dark? Why weren't things moving along?

She reached for her wand, happy to see it was still on her person, and immediately said, "Lumos." She went to stand, but she was suddenly afraid of what else lay beyond this soft surface. What if the mattress was the only solid surface in the room and the rest was open abyss? She tentatively reached out to feel around while shining her wand light on where her hand currently was. A stone floor. That was all that surrounded her mattress. She shined the light around the room and saw entirely stone surfaces. A large stone room about the size of the common room back in Gryffindor Tower.

A noise startled her and she immediately shined her light in the direction of what she now could just make out as a door. She pulled herself up and kept her wand at the ready as the door seemed to be opening rather slowly. Now she felt a little afraid. Something in the air had shifted and she felt the hairs on her arm stand at attention. The door pushed open to reveal the lit silhouette of a door frame backed by firelight. A figure stood there, though she couldn't make out who it was or whether it was even a male or a female. This was not the same as being blacked out at the bottom of a lake whatsoever.

Her room suddenly illuminated itself as four torches that had been mounted on the walls—she hadn't noticed them before—allowed for flames to burst out of them. They cast a warm glow over the room and revealed that she really was sitting in a stone, dungeon-esque room with two sealed doors on opposite walls. The light also allowed for the figure in the doorway's identity to now become obvious. It was Louis. He was standing there, drenched in sweat, with his wand raised directly at her and wearing as serious an expression as she'd ever seen him make in almost eighteen years on this planet.

She lowered her wand once their eyes met, but he didn't do the same. It actually didn't seem as if he had any intention of doing the same. In fact, it was bizarre how he was looking at her—as if he didn't know what to make of her or as if she were some strange creature who was about to pounce on him. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been anticipating a more pleasant reunion.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, noticing that he'd only taken a few tentative steps into the room. His wand was still aimed directly at her.

He didn't say anything. He continued to stare and point his wand.

Her wand was still resting at her side, but she suddenly felt the need to grip it tighter. Not that she could ever out duel or spellcast her brother even on her best day, but for whatever reason, it made her feel better about the fact that he was still aiming his directly at her.

"Seriously, Louis, what are you doing?"

He was ten feet away at this point and now that she got a good look at him, he looked wrecked. His hair was matted to his forehead in sweat and the shirt he was wearing was stuck to him as if he'd just gone swimming. He was also dirty and definitely a bit paler than usual. He seemed to be studying her, watching her mannerisms and her face. She found herself anxious under his strange gaze.

"Would you say something?" She stepped forward to knock his wand away with her wand—something she'd always done when he was pestering her when they were younger—but Louis immediately went on the defensive and jumped back in a startled fashion.

"Don't!" he yelled, pointing his wand with a certain feriosity at her. "Stay back!"

She froze, her eyes wide and her wand still outstretched. What was happening? She'd never seen that look in his eyes before. It was wild and almost unhinged. What had they done to him?

"Lou, it's me."

"Yeah, that's what the last three said," he stammered, his wand never leaving the ready position. "You've all fucking said that!"

"'You've all'?" she repeated, not understanding what that meant. "I don't know who you're talking about or what they're saying, but I'm me. Dominique. Your sister. If you can't see that—"

"This whole fucking maze of a place had been filled with my sister!" he yelled again. "You're the fourth one I've seen since I've entered! I'm just waiting to see what you're going to try and do to me. Melt. Attack me. Disappear."

She made a face. She wasn't following. Had he said melt? That didn't even make sense. "I don''t know what you're talking about. I just woke up here in this weird place and now you're doing this. I haven't—"

"How the hell am I supposed to know what's the truth?" he said. "You're all fucking different. Each one of you. But only one of you is actually you. Every single one of you seems real until you're not."

"Ok," she said, slowly piecing together what she thought was happening here. He'd claimed to have seen several versions of her, and they'd all gone and done something or attacked him. Did he have to find the real her? Which was her. She knew that. He didn't. She had to make him see that.

"Well, I'll spoil the fun for you because you've got the right person this time. It's actually me."

"They've all said that!"

Made sense. They probably would all have said that if the entire challenge was for him to find her. She had to convince him. A small memory of McGonagall saying something about her being the person he knew best. She was starting to see what this challenge was all about. Figuring out real truths.

"So, ask me something only I would know," she said to him. "I'll prove it to you I am who I say I am."

"That's the fucking problem," Louis said. "You all know everything about my sister. Everything! They've gone and somehow made copies of her and each one is as real as the next. You feel as real as the last ones."

Well, shit. She stood there fairly gobsmacked. That had to be what the stupid orb was about. It had somehow allowed them to figure her out and copy her. Someone really didn't know what they were thinking when they decided to bring multiple versions of her into the world. Here's hoping Louis had gone and destroyed them all because even she knew that one Dominique Weasley was more than enough.

But that needed to stop now. McGonagall has promised she wouldn't be hurt, but what exactly was stopping Louis from cursing her and causing her some serious damage? Did she have protective spells around her? If he tried something, would she disappear somehow? He had to find her, so it seemed that cursing her seemed counterproductive. Would he have to stay in this weird place until he discovered she was who she said she was? She was suddenly having second thoughts about agreeing to any of this.

"What's your gut telling you?" she asked him, staring directly at the tip of his wand pointed in her face. "Am I me? Am I not?"

"I don't know," he said quietly, though the tip of his wand lowered slightly as he seemed to take her in and observe her. "I want to say no because my sister wouldn't wear that." He used his wand to gesture to her. "But that could also be a trick. This place loves it's tricks."

She immediately looked down to what she was wearing, having not bothered to pay attention until this very moment. She was wearing a dress. And not the type of dress she would have worn, but a frilly, Natalie-like, sequined dress that she'd never have been caught dead in on any day of the week.

"Oh, this is a trick, alright," she said, looking back at him. "I wasn't wearing this when I got here. I came from Quidditch practice. I don't know where this—" she swatted at the dress as if it were a bug, "came from. I'd never wear this."

"Now that actually sounds like her," Louis said. "But this place is all about fucking with me, so it's hard to say."

Dominique gawked at him. "Louis, they clearly put me in an ugly dress to confuse you."

He stared at her. She couldn't tell if he was processing how stupid that all sounded or whether her story seemed to check out. He was so much closer now—the closest he'd been since entering the room—and even with all the extreme doubt and trepidation in his expression, she still found herself overwhelmed with how happy she felt just to see him. If a person could take the form of a security blanket, her brother was that person. She felt better knowing he was here and that he was safe and that he wasn't trapped somewhere or facing man-eating dragons, even if he looked as if he was going to blast her at a moment's notice. She knew it was him which was why she could feel this way; she just had to convince him she was her.

"So," she asked, cutting through the silence, "if we just stand here all day and I don't melt or attack you, will that convince you that it's me?"

"You'll disappear after eight minutes," he said. "Every room so far, you've either turned into something, attacked me, or disappeared. I keep going—keep doing this—until I can claim to have found the real you."

"Let me save you some time," she offered, stepping toward him to look him in the eyes. "It's me. You have to know it's me."

He stared back at her and for the first time, seemed a little emotional as he let her get within arm's length. "You have no idea how similar each of you have been. You all seem like her."

"I don't know whether I should be offended by how little you can pick me out of a crowd or impressed at how good these copies are."

"Probably both."

She smiled for the first time. "Banter, Louis. Come on! This is us! Do those copies banter as well as the real me can?"

She noticed his wand dropped ever so slightly. "I feel like the real you would be swearing a lot more," he said. "Especially given the circumstances."

"Fuck you!" she yelled loudly. "Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck you!"

He still didn't seem entirely convinced; he actually seemed even more frustrated and confused. There had to be something she could do to convince him. But if these Beauxbatons' task planners really had just copied her personality into multiple versions of her, then how was she supposed to even have any secrets? They apparently knew everything about her to the point that they could convincingly banter with her brother as only she knew how. What weird fucking magic was this? What was left for her to even use?

Like a Bludger to the head, she suddenly had an idea. This wasn't something someone could copy because it wasn't something about her, or about him. It was just something they could do, like a sixth-sense. There was no way to forge this skill.

"Think of a number," she said to him.

He stared at her, his eyes were either watering from sweat, stress, or tears, but once she said that, he closed his eyes and took an incredibly heavy breath. When he opened them and looked directly back at her, he even went so far as to lower his wand entirely. They stared at each other for a long moment. For whatever reason, the number seven came screaming back at her—as clear as day.

"It's seven."

His ridiculously pained expression suddenly broke into a laugh—an almost doubtful laugh, but there was amusement there. "I swear to Merlin if it's not you—"

"It is me," she said, watching as Louis stepped forward and wasted no time to hug her. She wrapped her arms around him and felt as if she'd never once in her life had him hug her like that before—as if his life depended on it. He was soaking wet and smelled like a dirty sock, but it didn't stop her from hugging him as tightly as she could. "And the fact that you can't pick me out straight away hurts my feelings, you git."

As they broke apart, Louis was still taking giant breaths, as if his body was attempting to calm itself down. She could sense his pent up anxiety and could only hope he'd been taking his potions in order to stave off one of his notorious anxiety attacks. When they'd been smaller, they'd been rather debilitating for him,

He noticed her watching him and waved her off in a reassuring way, "I'll be ok. I'm just coming down from a serious adrenaline rush."

"Have you been taking your—?"

"Yes. I'm not having an anxiety attack. I'm just relieved."

"No judgement if you were. This is stressful."

He laughed at that between heavy breaths.

She looked around the room, wondering what was supposed to happen now. He'd identified her and she hadn't melted away. Shouldn't this be over? Shouldn't something be happening? "Is someone going to let us out of here?"

Louis nodded, gesturing toward her wand as he suddenly reached into his pocket for a small box, just a bit bigger than a ring box. He popped it open to reveal—the ball. The orb she'd touched at the Ministry was sitting inside looking well protected. Why did he have that?

He held it up to her. "We need to both tap it with our wands at the same time. It'll end the task. That's what they told me."

Dominique was a little hesitant, considering the last time she'd come into contact with that thing, very strange things had occurred. Then again, how much stranger could things really get considering the two of them were currently standing in a dungeon room surrounded by fire burning torches and she was in a cocktail dress.

"Count of three," Louis said, gesturing for her to lift her wand up. "Just tap it. Ready?"

She held up her wand to signal that she was.

"One, two—"

They both tapped on three. Once again after coming in contact with that orb, the strangest sensation surged through her. She felt as if she were falling through a tunnel of light—blinding light—though it quickly turned into images. These images flashed by so quickly that she couldn't have identified one if she tried; it was as if someone was rapidly flipping the pages of a picture book in front of her face in a never ending sort of fashion. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures whirled by in a daze until suddenly, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. For the second time within hours, she'd completely blacked out.


	2. The Exchange

Dominique opened her eyes to find herself in a startlingly white room. It was almost the opposite effect of what had happened in the dark, black dungeon room she'd previously been in. This time, everything was brilliantly white. Light was shining in from somewhere. She blinked a few times to allow her eyes time to adjust before she finally started to see outlines and shapes surrounding her. People were moving, though who they were she didn't know. She felt stiff and awkward, as if she needed to move and stretch, but she was having a hard time doing any of that. Her body felt rigid.

Someone called out, in French, that they were awake. Both of them were awake.

Her eyes were focusing now. She was lying in a bed wearing a baggy, white nightgown. It looked as if she was in a hospital. A very white, very sterile looking hospital. The walls, floors, beds, bed linens, uniforms, counters—everything was white. The light she'd sensed from earlier was pouring in through a very large window; given the sun's position in the sky, it looked to be around midday. Midday of what day, though? How long had she been here? Why was she here? What had happened?

She felt...fine. It was as if she'd just woken from a blissful nap. No pain, no aches, no bruises or broken parts as far as she could tell. She was thirsty and stiff, but other than that, she couldn't figure out why she'd be in the hospital. She glanced down at her arms, noticing everything looked normal. She pulled up her bedsheet and looked down at her legs and feet. Everything looked normal there as well. She glanced over to her left and right, noticing now there were multiple beds now in this room, and saw that Louis was occupying the one to her right. He was rubbing his face and seemingly trying to focus as well.

"What's happened?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"I don't know," she said, her voice equally hoarse. She watched as two women appeared, both dressed in white—Healers or nurses, she assumed. One immediately went about poking and prodding her with her wand and various pieces of medical equipment; ignoring her requests for information as to why she and Louis were even there. The other looked to be doing the same to Louis as they recorded their vitals and examined their eyes in a strange, but serious silence.

When the one working on Dominique finally did speak, she asked her to do something in a language Dominique didn't understand. Dominique stared blankly at her.

The nurse pulled out her wands and performed a language charm on her. Almost instantly, her foreign language suddenly began processing itself to English in Dominique's brain, allowing her to understand. She suddenly said, "Please open your mouth."

After that exam was complete, both of the women were now comparing notes in two very different languages, though it didn't seem to slow them down from communicating one way or the other. It reminded her of the Quidditch Trials and the spell everyone had used to get past the language barriers. While Dominique could just make out the one who'd been taking care of Louis—it seemed his vitals were fine and he was showing no issues—she couldn't hear the nurse who'd taken care of her.

"Good news is we're both healthy," Louis said point-blankly once both women walked away. "That's what they said, at least. Bad news is that I still have no idea why we're in the hospital wing."

"Hospital wing?" she asked, looking around. She now had the strangest feeling of deja vu, as if she'd been here before.

"This is Beauxbatons' hospital wing," Louis said. "I was here a few weeks back when I felt myself coming down with a cold."

"Why's it so big?" Dominique asked, looking down the rows of beds, noticing that it had to be at least three times the size of the hospital wing of Hogwarts.

"It's a massive school," Louis said. "You should see it. It makes Hogwarts look tiny." He looked over at her. "You blacked out, too, then?"

She nodded. Seems they both had reacted similarly. That orb had some weird magic attached to it; she'd been fooled twice now into touching it, but that wasn't going to happen again. As far as she was concerned, she had better never see it again.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked.

"I can remember tapping that orb with my wand."

"Me too," he said, pulling himself up onto his elbows. "I blacked out there and now I'm here…" He suddenly made a face and closed his eyes tightly, as if he was in sudden pain. It was brief and when he opened his eyes and looked at her once more. He seemed confused.

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I…" He stared at her. "I'm not sure." His face screwed up as he continued to stare at her. "McGonagall cast some sort of spell on you. In her office. It caused you to blackout?"

"Yeah," she said, not seeing why this was relevant. Hadn't she told him that back in the dungeon? "It was how she got me here. What about it?"

"Erin Tanner was there, too," he said strangely. "Standing next to you."

She stared at him. She'd definitely never mentioned Erin. "How did you…?"

"I saw it," he said, just as the sound of doors opening and shutting from somewhere just beyond their line of sight made them both turn toward the source of the noise. He slowly looked back at her. "I can see it. I can see Erin standing there. I can see McGonagall pointing her wand in your face."

"What do you mean you can see it—?"

Without warning, their mother suddenly appeared practically jogging across the room and heading straight for them. Several paces behind her, their father and Professor McGonagall, as well as some people Dominique didn't know, were all walking briskly toward their beds. She did recognize one of the strange men—the one with the long, dark hair—as the man from the Ministry who'd handed her the orb.

"You're awake," their mother said, reaching Louis' bed first to practically smother him with a hug. "Are you alright?" She sat back to examine his face.

"I'm fine. We both are," Louis said, looking as if he had no desire to be fretted over. Dominique watched the random group of people who were now talking with the nurses and examining their paperwork.

Their mother had moved on to Dominique's bed and was now practically crushing her with her hug. "I was so worried." She glanced back at their father and Professor McGonagall, both of whom were standing nearby. "I cannot keep doing zis. It iz killing me."

Her mother's accent was slipping back into something much more French sounding, as it often did when she either spent more than a few days in France or was terribly stressed. Her grandparents often told of how it used to be very thick, but after decades spent in England, it had changed and faded. Dominique had a sneaking suspicion that it was a combination of both factors at work currently.

"Mum, I'm fine," Dominique said, her voice muffled into her mother's shoulder. Her father had gone over to hug Louis and give him a once over, just as their mother had. He seemed to be waiting for his turn to see Dominique.

"Happy to see you up and about," McGonagall said with a warm smile. "You gave us all quite the scare."

"How?" Dominique asked, just as Louis asked, "What happened?"

Her mother finally let go of her, her entire demeanor exhausted. She looked as if she hadn't been sleeping well and Dominique had to wonder how much sleep she was getting during this entire tournament. Their father's eyes also looked tired, though it was he who finally spoke to answer some of their questions.

"No one's quite sure what happened," he said, still sitting on the edge of Louis' bed. "The challenge ended, and when they went to retrieve you, you both were unconscious on the floor."

Her mother made a disapproving noise. She was very clearly not happy with the way things had played out.

"It didn't happen to any of the other kids," their father continued, "just the two of you. Everyone else was able to walk out on their own accord."

"Why did we blackout?"

"No one knows," their mother said quietly. "Zey are trying to figure zat out. But ze worst part was zat you didn't simply black out, you 'ave been out for days."

"Days!?" Louis and Dominique said in mixed unison, with Dominique adding, "How many days?"

"It's Tuesday," McGonagall said. "The challenge was on Saturday."

Louis and Dominique looked over at each other, both of them sharing similar looks of utter bewilderment. They'd been out for days for a reason that no one could figure out. It had affected them both; they'd apparently woken up at the exact same time. They both seemed just as disoriented as the other. Dominique hadn't asked Louis yet, but her head did feel rather fuzzy. And random flashes of images, people, and places that she couldn't recognize were jumping in and out of her mind.

"I can't believe it's been days," Louis muttered, sounding far away.

Dominique had a horrifying realization. Her gaze shot to McGonagall. "Wait, if it's Tuesday, that means I missed our Quidditch match—"

"How can you think about Quidditch right now?" Louis asked.

"I'm always thinking about Quidditch," she responded, noticing that McGonagall was smiling at her as if partially amused.

"You'll be happy to know that Gryffindor won. I'm sorry you had to miss it, but it seems the team made adjustments."

Dominique wasn't quite sure how to take that. They won? Seriously? Against Ravenclaw? Without her? What could they have possibly—?

"Now," McGonagall said, evidently returning to the matter at hand. "Professor DiSilva has commented that the magic used in this particular task was highly experimental—"

"Experimental magic," said her mother loudly, as if purposely trying to get her voice to carry. "Both of my children are being subjected to experimental magic in a situation where zey could easily be harmed or killed! And one of zem did not sign up for zis!"

Her mother hadn't been speaking to McGonagall, that much was clear. She'd been starting toward the group of robes near the nurses who were still reading over charts. Her gaze was directly on them and she was glaring. Dominique had a feeling that her mother had been having words—loud and angry words—with many people over the last few days.

"Fluer, they're awake," their father said in a reassuring sort of way. "We'll get to the bottom of this, but for now, let's focus on the positive." He turned back to Louis. "Guess what? You won."

Louis looked confused. "Won what?"

"The task," their father said. "You were first to finish."

Louis' expression changed in a matter of seconds from puzzled to shocked. "Seriously?" He turned to look at Dominique, who was also now surprised to hear that as well. "I was first?"

Their father was smiling and nodding, while their mother seemed to be indifferent to the matter of winning or losing. It was McGonagall who added, "You completed the task roughly eleven minutes faster than the second place finisher, and over three hours faster than the final finisher."

"Was it Javier who came in second? Or Amalie?" Louis asked, though as soon as he said her name, the quickest and most overwhelming feeling of warmth and excitement and bliss and...she couldn't even describe it, but it was entirely overpowering her senses and threw her for a loop. What on Earth was that?

"Javier," said their father, adding, "Amalie was third."

"I can't believe I beat either of them." He smiled. "I can't believe I won. I would have thought Amalie would have won." He smiled. "She's brilliant."

"They're trying to determine whether being the first one to complete the task may have been the reason for your blackout," McGonagall continued. "Perhaps some sort of unpredictable factor. It's hard to say since nothing happened to the other champions. But congratulations are in order, Louis. You did finish first and were awarded the highest amount of points."

He turned again and smiled at Dominique. "I guess I have to thank you. I'd still be in there if you hadn't figured things out."

She shrugged as her mother reached out and rested her hand on her. "All I did was guess a number."

"You knew the number," he corrected. "Who knew that trick would come in handy one day?" He suddenly looked over toward the group of wizards across the room. "Thank Merlin it was you and not someone else."

She smiled at him and he smiled back. They didn't have to say anything or be mushy or emotional. They were past that point in their relationship as siblings. She already knew what he wanted to say and she had a sneaking suspicion he knew as well. Their silent smiles conveyed enough, so they may as well save the words.

"You two have a very unique connection," McGonagall said, observing them both.

"Zey always 'ave," said their mother, smiling genuinely for the first time since she'd appeared. "So different, but so connected. It 'as always been very special."

Everyone was all smiles all of the sudden, and Dominique suddenly felt rather uncomfortable under all of these feelings and emotions. She cleared her throat to change the subject. "So, if Louis came in first, what place does that put him overall now?"

"Tied for third with the gentleman from Durmstrang," McGonagall said. "Miss Zabini is currently in first place with Mr. Escolera in second."

"The Durmstrang kid must have really mucked up this challenge if he fell all the way down to tie with me," Louis muttered. "He was in first."

"It seems that for some, this was a tremendously difficult challenge," McGonagall continued. "Beauxbatons has an entire course program dedicated to Legilimency and the uses of mental magic, whereas at Hogwarts it's considered a specialized subject that a student would have to petition to do individualized study in. At Durmstrang, I've heard they feel it's superfluous magic, choosing rather to focus on the core essential wand and spellwork. It may be why both of their champions did so poorly."

Louis mused on that for a moment. "It is a big deal at Beauxbatons, which is why I'm surprised I beat them. Javi was born a Legilimens, so he's a skilled mind reader. Then Amalie…" He smiled suddenly. "She's worked hard to become an incredibly gifted Legilimens. Seriously, she's brilliant and perfect. You should talk to her. She's a top student." He sighed. "She's amazing."

Everyone standing there seemed to be silently questioning Louis' lengthy description, but no one said anything. Her mother cleared her throat to move things alone. "Iz it just me, or did zis challenge seem built for Beauxbatons' champions and zat particular skill?

"Durmstrang did the same thing," Dominique said. "Everyone said so."

"Then we can only hope Hogwarts does that as well," their father said, throwing McGonagall a small smile.

Her face didn't react one way or another. "Each school's tournament task incorporates difficult magic that any skilled young wizard or witch could have mastered had they kept up with their studies. Hogwarts will be upholding the integrity of the tournament by creating a challenge that is fit for these champions to both work diligently through and also potentially excel at."

Dominique blinked. That was a lot of words. She almost wanted to look around and check for the set of reporters that McGonagall was apparently giving a sound bite to, but was immediately distracted by the crowd from across the room. They had now broken apart and were either walking in the opposite direction or hanging back and observing them.

The man with the long, dark hair stepped forward, as if to make his appearance known; he smiled tersely at McGonagall and their parents, as if there was some sort of familiarity already there. Dominique immediately felt uneasy as another strange sense of deja vu crept over her.

"Professor DiSilva," McGonagall said curtly.

"Professor McGonagall," he replied with a quick nod and very thick accent, his gaze already settling on Louis before drifting to Dominique. "And hello to you both. Happy to see you've awoken."

Dominique felt her mother's grip on her hand tighten. Her entire demeanor had stiffened in an instant.

"You of course know Louis," McGonagall continued, gesturing to Louis' bed. "But I'm unsure if you've properly met Dominique."

DiSilva shook his head, smiling a rather cold smile at her. "We were never properly introduced that day at your Ministry. Though, I feel as if I already know everything about you. Probably because I do."

Well, that was the creepiest thing anyone has ever said to her; she let herself slink down a bit in her bed. She wasn't sure how to even react, and instead found herself staring at her mother, who was in turn glaring at DiSilva. She remembered how McGonagall had mentioned that DiSilva was one of the world's leading Legilimens and was probably well aware of every thought traveling through all of their heads right now. That just made things feel even creepier.

"Not just you, of course," he continued. "All of the champions' companions. Necessary to orchestrate the task."

Her father cleared his throat. "Have you figured out why my children were the only two to have an adverse reaction to what occured in there?"

"Or iz it still a mystery?" her mother said, finishing for him in a very sarcastic sort of way. Dominique sensed a lot of conversations had already transpired between this man and her parents; it didn't seem as if any of them were pleasant.

DiSilva's expression—a forced sort of polite smile—hadn't changed since he'd walked over. If he really could read minds, then he was probably getting a lot of negative thoughts thrown at him right now.

"You're both in perfect health," DiSilva said, glancing from Louis to Dominique. "Nothing about what occured in the mind maze caused any harm or damage to you physically."

"Why do I feel as if there's a 'but' coming?" Louis said.

"As for why you blacked out, all we have are theories, and I feel as if something between the two of you caused for such an immense energy exchange to occur that the magic became debilitating in that moment. It caused a shift." He looked at Louis. "I can say without question that even in the few moments I've been standing here, I can already see your mind is different."

Louis looked confused. "Sorry, but what does that mean?"

"In all the time I spent with you—all the champions—before this task, I grew to know you. The inner workings of our minds read very specifically—as a book would. Everyone is different, though each person has their own unique sets of thoughts, patterns, and temperaments. You, Mr. Weasley, were always set apart by your extreme ability to process and digest knowledge, as well as rampant anxiety."

"Rampant?" her mother said, looking at Louis as if that had surprised her. "I know he 'as anxiety, but I would never 'ave used ze word rampant."

"Mum, I've been medicated for it for a decade now," Louis said obviously. "Why would the Healers keep prescribing them to me if it wasn't an issue?"

"Just goes to show the potions are doing their job," their father added. "I get where your mother is coming from. In a way, it almost feels as if they've gone away."

Dominique wanted to say something—about how she'd still bore witness to some of his nightmares over the summer when he'd drank too much and passed out without taking his potion; how they certainly never felt as if they'd gone away to her. But Louis was always good at home and remembered to take his vials, so of course their parents were a little surprised to hear it was still as prevalent. Louis did a masterful job of convincing everyone otherwise; of convincing everyone he was perfect.

She suddenly had another random flash of a vision pass through her head. It was summer, Sarah's bedroom, she was lying down, a feeling of absolute terror overtook her that she just couldn't shake. She was looking around in the dark and her chest was heaving. Someone's voice—was it Sarah?—said, "You're ok."

When did that happen? Why had she seen that?

"Well," DiSilva cut back in, causing Dominique to snap back to reality, "from what I can see, your issues may have gone away. At least, partly. I see no traces of extreme anxiety now—only normal levels of anxiety."

Everyone stared at him as if they immediately needed him to elaborate. It was then he added, "This is what I mean when I say your mind is different now. Something in you has changed."

Louis sat up straight in his bed. "Hold on. Are you saying…?" He gaped a few times. "My anxiety is...gone?"

"I can't say for sure if the worst parts of it are gone," DiSilva said, "I can only say that I don't see them as I did before the task. Before, they were overwhelming. Now, they are minimal."

There was a murmur of surprised confusion, though Louis looked downright ecstatic. Everyone was talking over each other, asking what they needed to do to be sure of this or how certain they could be. Only then did Dominique notice that DiSilva was staring at her. She immediately knew he was reading her and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it. She continued to have the strangest feeling of deja vu that this wasn't the first time he'd done this to her.

"And Miss Weasley, while I never got to personally know you in order to gauge your mind's patterns, I had an excellent set of notes given what I collected—"

"What you took," she interrupted, thinking back to the Ministry.

He ignored her. "You are now reading very differently as well. Did you also suffer from anxiety issues as your brother did?"

"No," her mother said, answering for her. "Dominique never 'ad issues out of ze normal realm. Only Louis."

DiSilva hummed. Something seemed to be puzzling him. "I seemed to remember something about anger issues?"

Dominique found herself looking around at her family, waiting for someone to contradict that comment, though no one did. Even McGonagall's expression didn't seem to want to argue that. What a bunch of jerks.

"I wouldn't call them issues," she finally said. "I am quick to anger sometimes—"

"Sometimes?" Louis said.

She chose to not even acknowledge him. "But I feel as if I've gotten better."

"Interesting," DiSilva said. "Very interesting."

"What is, Professor DiSilva?" McGonagall asked.

"I don't want to say for sure yet and put unfounded ideas out there," DiSilva said. "Not until I'm certain, but I'm seeing a lot of different things and I'm curious to investigate this." He glanced from Louis to Dominique. "Something happened to the two of you and I don't think you even realize it yet. Things are waking in your minds right now—as I'm speaking—that will be confusing to you. You won't understand what's happening."

Louis and Dominique looked at each other, while their parents both looked from one to the other. It was McGonagall who finally asked, "Are you trying to say some sort of damage was done, Professor? What exactly do you mean?"

"I mean, that I'm seeing almost an exchange of parts of his mind into hers and vice versa," DiSilva continued. "And mind you, we're talking about certain parts, not entire personalities or identities. They haven't switched minds and probably still feel very much like themselves, but…" He trailed off as he threw Dominique an inspecting sort of stare. "I've never seen this much—for lack of a better word—color when I've read anyone before. Their minds are actually lighting up. And I am seeing it from both of them."

"I'm not following," their father said as he stood up to face DiSilva head on. "What has happened to them? What's wrong with their minds?"

"Nothing is wrong," DiSilva said. "Just different." He looked at Louis. "You and your sister's minds are waking up to new sensations and traits. For example, I fear she may have taken on some of your anxiety while you've taken on some of her anger. Both of you are showing elevated levels of each."

"What?!" Louis said, while Dominique said nothing. She felt herself leaning back into her pillow with a dull, tightness in her chest. Shit. This wasn't good.

"As I said, I can't be certain without investigating fully," DiSilva continued, "but this is what I'm seeing. I wouldn't be surprised if you start discovering other things now that you're awake and your mind is free to explore. I'm currently unsure of what those things are."

"Is this why I keep seeing flashes of her life?" Louis said matter-of-factly, pointing at Dominique.

"Flashes of 'er life?" her mother asked. "What do you mean?"

"I'm seeing things, too," Dominique said, looking at Louis. "It's as if I can see some of his memories."

"Yeah, exactly," Louis said. "That's exactly what it is. Someone will say something to trigger a memory of hers that just flashes in front of my face. Like, when someone mentioned blacking out, I could see Professor McGonagall putting her under for the task. When someone mentioned anger issues, I saw you fighting with Tommy Hornsby for some reason."

They all turned to DiSilva, who again looked utterly perplexed as to what could be the explanation for any of this. "A memory exchange. Remarkable. I don't even know how that—"

"Remarkable!?" Louis said, sounding anything but amused. "Is it really? Because my private memories are meant to be private. They're not up for anyone to view, let alone my sister!"

Dominique suddenly had a chill of fear shoot through her, as if she'd jumped into an ice bath. If he had access to some of her memories—which was embarrassing enough—then he was going to see...Oh, shit. Jack. He was going to find out about Jack. He was going to find out what she and Jack had been up to. He was going to find out _exactly_ what she and Jack had been up to. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"I don't want him to see my memories!" she yelled, doing a pitiful job of hiding the panic in her voice. "Those are mine!"

Her mother reached over to rest a calming hand on her shoulder, though she looked concerned for both her and Louis' obvious state of mind. She turned to DiSilva, "Alright, 'ow can we fix zis? How can we go back to ze way zings were before? Can we use a memory charm to erase—?"

"No," DiSilva interrupted. "I would not advise anything like that at the moment. The wounds are still too fresh. A memory charm may cause irreversible damage if inflicted. It's important to let things settle so that we may understand what has happened."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" McGonagall asked. "I do hope you're not about to tell me I've had two of my students subjected to adverse side effects of your experimental magic."

"Adverse?" Dominique asked. Louis gripped his mattress, as if he was actually restraining himself.

DiSilva said nothing. He did nothing more than stare at the pair of them for what seemed like an eternity. When he did finally speak, he seemed calm. "I believe the mind can always be changed for the willing. I will need a few days to study you both and see exactly what has changed—especially since I feel not everything has been awoken yet. I will begin retracing the steps I took with my energy orb in order to create the spellwork that ultimately caused this. But I will need some time."

"A few days to study them?" McGonagall said, sounding as if this was not something she was keen on. "Where? Here? You're asking me to have them remain here at Beauxbatons so you can study them?"

"Yes. For at least a week."

"And what happens after you're done studying them?" their father asked. "What if you haven't figured it out?"

"Oh, I don't intend to have it figured out that quickly," DiSilva said, coolly as could be. "This would be only the beginning. It took me nine months to execute the magic in this task. Before that, I'd been working on prototypes for years. It may take some time. I will need some time."

Dominique inhaled sharply, feeling the tightness in her chest getting tighter. Louis made no attempt to hide a loudly whispered, "Years? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Louis."

"They don't have time for this," McGonagall immediately said. "They have lives. They have exams and tournaments to compete in! They need to be put back properly!"

"How is he supposed to compete," their father asked, gesturing to Louis, "if you've just admitted his mind is in a different place right now? If what you're saying is true, he's not even the same person he was when he was selected for this? How do we even know he's fit to compete anymore?"

"Dad, I'm fine," Louis muttered. "Right now the only difference is that I can see some of Nic's memories. That's not exactly—"

"Even when he was fit to compete," their mother said, ignoring Louis and rounding on DiSilva, "he's landed in 'ospital after both tasks! Zis was already when 'e was prepared!"

"Again, I'm fine," Louis repeated, sounding aggravated at being treated as if he wasn't sitting right there.

DiSilva held up his hand as if to silence everyone, but to also let them know he was listening and understood their concerns. "Please. I know they have lives and things they must get back to. I'm not asking to keep them as pets forever, just a few days of observation. I may be able to reverse this. I may need to consult some colleagues. I may need to read some books. I will get to the bottom of this."

There wasn't much of a decision to be made, it seemed. DiSilva assured them that after a few days he would have all the information he would need from them and that they could return to Hogwarts, even if they hadn't been properly fixed. They could wait things out there until DiSilva—or whomever—could figure out how to rectify this situation.

McGonagall didn't seem to have much of a choice, but permitted them to remain here; that she would discuss matters with Madame Maxime.

It was then determined that the bus that Louis and Zara had traveled and lived on while staying here would remain; Dominique could have Zara's soon to be abandoned quarters, seeing as she was set to leave the following day back to Hogwarts. Their personal tutor and chaperone would remain as well, and McGonagall said she would deal with the details. She was insistent that they weren't to stay any longer than a week. She refused to believe that DiSilva wouldn't have everything he needed in that amount of time; he was welcome to come to Hogwarts and collect more if needed.

Their parents both seemed at a loss as to what to do, though with McGonagall's reassurance and a lack of any other options, they relented. Dominique made a joke about their mother finally having her children come to Beauxbatons, which she always wanted; her mother didn't find it as funny as she would have hoped for. If anything, she seemed more stressed out than before—which meant her accent wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Louis was clearly annoyed given the circumstances, confidently proclaiming that this was all "complete bollocks," which their father immediately called him on given his sudden, incessant need to swear.

"What 'as gotten into you?" their mother asked.

Louis gestured to his sister, rather grimly muttering. "Apparently her."


	3. Dirty Secrets

Louis and Dominique were permitted to leave the hospital wing just a few hours after they'd woken; once evening had settled in on the day. Dominique had barely gotten a look around the palace she'd heard her mother speak about so many times before she was escorted off the grounds to a nearby village with her family. She supposed she could do that tomorrow since she apparently had several days to look around, and as the carriage they were taking pulled off the grounds, she caught a brief glimpse of Beauxbatons lit up against the evening sky. It looked softer and far more regal than Hogwarts did.

Her mother and father were staying at an inn in the village—which Dominique immediately took to assume was their version of Hogsmeade. Their mother had tried to persuade the two of them to join them at their inn, though Louis had immediately refused. He preferred the quarters he'd been occupying since arriving here, and the look he'd thrown Dominique told her that she needed to come along as well. It was evident they needed to talk.

But they had to get through dinner first. Her mother's demeanor had calmed significantly after leaving the palace grounds; once they were walking through the charming village streets surrounded by small shops and cafes. Nostalgia seemed to be working wonders for her mood as she walked through the places she and her friends used to visit, the places they would shop in, and their favorite spots to eat. She became quite keen to show them her old haunts and spots from her school days.

It was a good thing that their mother now seemed overwhelmed with happy memories and the urge to tell them stories, since she and Louis weren't talking much. Their shared memory connection really seemed to be working a number on them now that they realized the other had access to their past and any real secrets they were hoping to keep. She quickly realized that there were triggers that made Louis' thoughts suddenly appear.

Such as when their mother stopped outside of a bookstore to tell a story about how she'd acquired her favorite book there as a young student, Dominique got a flash of a very happy Louis—also younger—walking through the shelves of Flourish and Blotts back in Diagon Alley. Nothing had even happened, he was just walking and looking at the shelves, but the trigger of looking for books had sprung it in her head as soon as her mother mentioned it. It was happening constantly about so many small things, and it was proving to be confusing considering his memories were now fighting with her own to get her attention.

She could tell Louis was dealing with it similarly, though she had no idea to what extent or what he could possibly be seeing. Anything was a trigger—stories, sights, smells, feelings—who knew what he was witnessing? Worst yet, the memories didn't always make sense and they certainly weren't clear. These weren't always perfectly preserved moments in time for her to observe as a show. They were blurry, muddled, and in most instances incomplete. They were sometimes accompanied by overwhelming feelings and emotions based on how he was feeling at the time. They could be confusing and mysterious. She hated the strangeness of it all.

Once dinner and their tour of this little village had ended, they took a carriage back up to the palace grounds. Their mother reassured them as they reached the gates that she would see them again soon. Dominique didn't know how soon "soon" actually was, but she was too tired to ask anymore questions. She only wanted to escape to a place where she could be alone. She wasn't sure that was even possible right now, but she needed a good hour to just process what was happening.

They said their good nights, and she and Louis exited while her parents took the carriage back down to the village. Dominique had no idea where to go or what to do from there; she was putting all of her faith in Louis at the moment to get her where they needed to be. He took off to lead the way immediately, not saying anything to her one way or another.

The palace was still illuminated against the dark night sky. It seemed lovely, if not a little foreboding. She only thought that since it was so unfamiliar to her and she had no real idea what she was even doing here. If she was stuck here for a week, what exactly was she supposed to do? They'd said something about a tutor, but was she supposed to sit for lessons? She obviously hadn't brought any of her materials or books, and if she were being honest, she had no real desire to study at the moment. Even if her N.E.W.T.s were closer than ever.

"We're just over this hill," Louis said finally, after several minutes of walking in silence. "They have us in the east garden near the lake."

North, south, east, west—she had no idea what direction was what right now. The grounds felt massive and she saw something in the distance that caught her attention since it looked like a Quidditch arena. If it were, she really wanted to investigate.

"I don't even know what to say," Louis said as he slowed his pace down.

"I don't either," Dominique said, noticing a large object appear once they were on the opposite side of the hill. It was a double-decker bus—black in color—and it was parked near a large lake that looked much smaller than the lake at Hogwarts. The water looked like a perfectly undisturbed sheet of glass with what little moonlight was shining from above reflecting off of it. There were lights on inside the bus.

"Just do me a favor," Louis said. "If you see something you don't understand or agree with, talk to me first. Don't make assumptions."

She nodded at that, though found herself now wondering what exactly he had for her to find. "Only if you do the same. Not everything is as it seems. Context is everything, after all."

"Exactly," Louis said as they closed in on the bus. "And I'm sorry in advance if you stumble across…" He'd stopped and reached the door to the bus, where he had his hand on the handle, but wasn't opening it. They exchanged apprehensive looks, but he never finished that sentence. He instead turned the handle of the door to pull it open, and immediately called out to whomever was inside.

The inside of the bus was much larger than a typical bus. The set up much like a small, cozy home rather than anything resembling the interior of a vehicle. They were immediately greeted by a sitting area with two large sofas, and behind that an area with several closets and cabinets. There was a corridor beyond that that led to doors and a stairway, but beyond that, Dominique couldn't make out anything else.

A moment later, one of the doors opened and Zara popped her head out. She looked both shocked and elated to see them standing there.

"They'd said you'd woken up," she said, stepping forward rather excitedly. The smile on her face was wide as she went to hug Louis tightly and greet him like an old friend. "What is with you ending up in hospital after every bloody task?" She pulled away to look at him. "Could you stop that?"

Louis laughed as he pulled away. "I fully expect to be dead by the last one. If anyone will kill me, it'll be Hogwarts."

"Not funny," Zara said seriously as she finally let go of him. Her eyes traveled over to Dominique and she smiled at her, but it was sad. "And now they've gone and dragged you into this."

Dominique mustered a weak smile, still giving the room a once over. "Erin got out, then? Didn't get stuck behind like I did?"

Zara nodded. "She left the next day. We didn't have the complications you two had." She looked over her shoulder at something before turning back to them. "McGonagall was here earlier talking to Timmith. I heard the whole story. It's completely fucked."

Louis shrugged and collapsed on the nearest sofa. Zara went and sat beside him while Dominique looked at the other wall and took that sofa, still unsure of her surroundings. It was evident that Louis and Zara had called this place home for the last few months and had made themselves comfortable, but Dominique still felt as if she were sitting in someone else's space and wasn't sure how to proceed.

"So, what's next?" Zara asked, speaking directly to Louis.

"DiSilva wants to observe us, or study us, or something like that," he said, sounding tired and rubbing his eyes. "See what he's broken and attempt to put it back together."

"Fantastic," Zara muttered, her tone conveying the opposite of her words. "You get to spend extra time with that nutter. Lucky you."

"Tell me about it," Louis mumbled, echoing her sentiments as he turned to look at her. She was watching him in a sympathetic sort of way and they looked to almost be having a silent conversation with their expressions.

Dominique found herself oddly drawn to the fact that Louis and Zara seemed exceptionally close—far more than she'd ever known them to be back at Hogwarts. They'd always been friendly, what with both being prefects and popular; they'd certainly floated around each other over the years. This tournament had probably brought them together in a lot of ways, but now she was starting to wonder how much exactly? Sure, Louis was apparently hung up on this Amalie girl, but if Dominique didn't know any better—and she knew her brother well—she sensed something had happened between these two.

Just as she considered that, she realized she didn't have to wonder. Louis' entire memory bank was at her disposal right now, and as soon as she attempted to focus on Zara and him specifically, a memory immediately appeared. They were walking. It was dark and absolutely freezing cold. Louis was extremely anxious—Dominique could feel it—but he was slightly calmed by the fact that Zara was there. They both had their wands out and were talking about which direction to take. Zara was trying to convince him to follow a path left, but he claimed they should go right. Then an ear piercing scream of an animal or a monster or something that Dominique couldn't detect in the dark. She suddenly felt sick with fear and forced herself to shut her eyes and force it out of her mind, though she could hear Zara's screams in her ears.

Another one flashed by. The two were sitting in a large room that reminded Dominique of the Great Hall; they were both eating a meal, surrounded by kids in powder blue robes. Zara was aggravated with him and giving him shit about something. Sarah? Maybe how he'd treated their breakup? Whatever it was, he was barely listening.

Another one. They were standing together outside of a stone building. DiSilva was standing there giving them instructions as to what they needed to achieve in the task. Zara was staring at Louis looking rather apprehensively. Louis tried to throw her a reassuring smile, but Dominique could feel his anxiety soaring. But again, her presence seemed to calm him. She could feel it.

Everything seemed normal and innocent. If anything, they seemed like good friends. In fact, the closest scandalous memory she could find actually went back to when they both looked to be about twelve or thirteen. The two of them were in a closet somewhere—didn't seem like school—and Louis wanted to kiss her, but she was nervous. Someone knocked on the door and told them they only had two more minutes, which gave her the impression it was a forced situation. A kissing game, maybe? Dominique must have not been invited to that get together—not that she would have gone anyway.

"Nic," said Louis suddenly, which caused Dominique to snap back to reality. Both he and Zara were staring at her.

"Sorry," she said, blinking a few times and sitting up straight. "I didn't—"

"Shit, what'd you see?" Louis asked.

"Nothing," she said immediately. "Nothing."

"You obviously saw something."

"It was just..." She glanced between the two of them, with Louis looking afraid to hear the answer. "It was just...something about the two of you in a closet. Did you play a kissing game a few years ago?"

He blinked, looking as if he'd never heard something so random. "You saw _that_?"

"You still remember _that_?" Zara asked him. "That was ages ago."

Louis shrugged and said, "Yeah," as Dominique said, "But that's it. It randomly popped into my head."

"See, this is what I'm talking about," Louis said to Zara, having apparently explained much of this to her while Dominique had been lost in thought. "She can now see everything. All of my private moments are free for her to explore."

Zara looked rather unsure of how to react to all of this, though she was shaking her head sympathetically, "I'd be horrified if my brother could see my memories."

"No shit," Louis said and Dominique made a face as if to agree with that. "And what's worse is things don't even make sense. There's holes in stuff and it's fuzzy and incomplete. It's not as if it's some story playing out, or even what it's like when you look into a pensieve where you can recall everything in detail."

"Yours aren't that bad, actually," Dominique said, finding that she didn't entirely agree with that. Sure they were a bit fuzzy and details weren't perfect, but she was discovering his memories, for the most part, were decent. Yes, they were probably how he chose to remember things and not entirely correct, but it was clear that Louis' memory was stronger than hers. That didn't exactly surprise her. He'd always been able to recall things more accurately than she could; she'd never bothered with the details.

"Happy to hear that," he muttered sarcastically.

Zara smiled and glanced over at Dominique. "Have you noticed anything else?"

"That DiSilva bloke mentioned something about how he read us and I'm showing as less angry and he's showing as less anxious. He didn't make it seem like we swapped, but Louis has been rather testy, so—"

"I've noticed," Zara said.

"I'm angry because all of this is bullshit," Louis said. "It has nothing to do with swapping anything with you. I just want to be myself and go home." He looked at Dominique. "How are you not more angry?"

Dominique surprisingly shook her head. She wasn't entirely sure of the answer to that. "I'm less angry and more confused. I'm just hoping this gets sorted out."

"DiSilva's a fucking madman," Louis said, and Dominique found her stomach drop a bit when she noticed Zara nodding in agreement. "He's managed to convince the right people that he's not, but after everything he's put us through, I'm convinced."

As he spoke, a flash of a memory of DiSilva sitting in a cold, dark room appeared. Louis was apparently sitting in front of him. They weren't doing anything more than staring at each other in an uncomfortable silence. Dominique immediately shook the memory off given she hated the way Louis' obvious discomfort made her feel.

"I have little faith he's going to do shit," he added.

"Mad as he may be," Zara said, "He does have skills that others don't possess. I'm choosing to believe he'll sort it out." She paused for a moment. "And if he doesn't, what's the worst thing that happens? You're stuck with some misplaced memories and you're a little more irritable?" She looked at Dominique. "You're a little...less irritable? That's a good thing for you."

Dominique wrinkled her nose at her, but said nothing. It was true, if that really was all the damage that had been done, then Zara was right; things could be worse. But she had a feeling they simply hadn't discovered the magnitude of what had happened to them yet.

Zara did almost the talking as she recounted her and Louis' days here at Beauxbatons. She told the story of her dealing with the second task—in which she came in the fourth. She'd run into various versions of Erin who—like Louis had said—melted away, turned into horrific creatures, attacked her with tricky spellwork, or simply vanished into thin air after the allotted eight minutes. Erin told her later that she overlooked her twice, causing Zara to run the gauntlet over and over again, and only on their third encounter did Zara finally take a chance that proved to be correct.

"It had been a guess," she said. "They all felt so real it was really impossible to tell, but I got lucky." She glanced from Dominique to Louis. "Did you figure it out the first time?"

Louis nodded. "She was the fourth one I came across. I wasn't convinced at first, but she remembered that we have this trick we've done since we were kids."

"We can guess what number the other one is thinking," Dominique offered. "Dunno why, but it works. He knew it was me after that."

Zara looked impressed. "Seriously?"

Dominique nodded and looked over at Louis. "Yeah, watch." She closed her eyes. "Tell her your number."

She waited until Louis did; when she opened her eyes, she looked directly into his. He was thinking of…She blinked and sat up straighter, now staring harder into his eyes as if looking for something specific. Nothing was happening.

"Are you thinking of it?"

He made an obvious face. "Yeah."

She continued to stare at him, but absolutely nothing came. Usually a number would just shoot into her mind, but now—nothing. Absolutely darkness. She shook her head. "I'm not…I can't see anything."

Louis' brow furrowed as he leaned in closer to her. "Hold on, let me try. Think of a number."

She did—five—and focused as hard as she could while staring her brother down. Seconds turned into a minute. She already knew what was happening; he didn't have to say anything. She could tell by the way he was now squinting at her that he didn't have it.

"Nothing."

They both sat back in their seats, but their eyes never left each other. It seems their number trick was traded for a bunch of random memories. She much preferred the numbers.

"Fuck," Louis said, once again sounding aggravated. "What else is going to happen?"

Dominique didn't know what to say to that—she didn't know what to say to any of this. Zara looked rather awkward from her spot, and suddenly stood up. "I'm going to let you two figure things out. Plus, I was told that now that the bus is staying with you two, I'm getting an early Portkey tomorrow."

"You're leaving?" Louis asked. He sounded alarmed despite the fact that Dominique knew her departure the next day had been discussed earlier.

She nodded. "We were both supposed to leave tomorrow. But just like last time, you're stuck staying behind while I'm headed home. This seems to be how we do this."

He stared at her for a moment before finally looking away. "You can't leave. I don't want you to leave."

Zara threw him a sympathetic looking smile; one that she turned onto Dominique, though it quickly became more polite. She gestured to her room, as if she were headed into it to call it a night. "Dominique, you're on the sofa tonight. There are blankets and pillows just underneath it. Also, they brought you a bag of clothes from school. McGonagall dropped them off earlier. It's just there."

Dominique looked at the bag that had been sitting near the sofa and reached over to open it. She hadn't really considered that she was here without a single supply or piece of clothing—not even a toothbrush. Her mother had brought her clothes to change into from the hospital wing, but that was all she had. It most likely would have dawned on her when she went to sleep tonight that she had no sleepwear, but she was happy to see that someone had thought ahead. When she looked inside, she found things from school that she'd packed. Someone had packed her a bag from her actual possessions.

"I don't know if i'll see you tomorrow, but if I don't, good luck getting put back right," Zara said to both of them. She turned and left at that, leaving Dominique and Louis to stare rather blankly at each other.

Louis sat up straighter and heaved a heavy breath. "Alright, let's do this, then. Both of us are going to sleep soon. We're both going to be left completely alone with our—literally both of our—thoughts. I don't want to be surprised and neither do you. We should admit to the worst of it so we're prepared. Do you want to go first?"

"Go first?" she asked, still not quite understanding what he was playing at.

"What's the worst I'm going to see?" he asked as he pulled out his wand and suddenly cast a sound muffling charm to make sure their conversation remained private. It was then that she didn't get a flash of any of his memories, but rather one of her own. Jack, standing in her room, casting the same spell above her bed on New Year's Eve.

She felt her chest tighten. Jack. Jack was the worst he was going to see—all the broken, fuzzy images of him naked, her naked, and them doing naked activities together. She was actually surprised nothing had crossed his mind already given how much time Jack spent on her mind in general. If he had, it wasn't anything incriminating. Not yet, at least.

"Fine, I'll go first," Louis said resolutely, looking as if he were about to attack an issue. "There's probably some sex stuff that I'd really like you not see."

"Obviously," Dominique said. "Same would go for me."

"Yeah, I've managed to stave off Davies' skinny arse for most of the day, but—" Now he closed his eyes and began immediately shaking his head as if fighting off the thought. "There it is. In all it's pasty glory. I could have done without that."

Dominique felt her face get hot. This was hell. Absolute hell. She could think of few worse ways to spend her time than watching her brother fight off images of her having sex—except, perhaps if maybe it was her parents doing it. Either way, she wouldn't wish this on her worst enemy. Especially since she knew it was now just a matter of minutes before she was going to have to come clean about Jack. This wasn't something she was prepared to do considering they weren't even a thing any longer. She had hoped to keep it completely under wraps.

"But yeah," Louis continued, "obviously there's some...stuff. Stuff with Sarah specifically that—if you could please just not pay attention to. We…" He sighed again, clearly struggling through this entire conversation. "We kept busy." He paused for a minute. "It's not something I ever intended to share. And she'd say the same, I'm sure."

Another flash. Tits that could only belong to Sarah. Hair whipping around. Louis' overwhelming feeling of euphoric bliss that could actually feel. She immediately forced Quidditch into her head, naming Seeking dives in order of difficulty.

"Why did you have to say anything?" she muttered, wrinkling her nose before adding, "I wasn't seeing any of this before you mentioned it."

"Ok, stop. Just stop thinking about it!"

"It's not that easy!"

Louis led his head fall back in a defeated way. "Those are private fucking moments."

"Nothing is private anymore," she muttered. "That's the point!"

"How would you like it if I went through all your Davies' shit? Or your night with Reynolds?" he suddenly pulled a pained face, as if something had come to him at that moment that he clearly couldn't stop.

"See, you can't just stop it from happening!" Dominique said as she pointed at him, "It just happens!"

He was looking disturbed. "That's quite a feeling Reynolds managed to give you."

"It's called an orgasm," she said, which caused Louis to recoil in an overdramatic matter. "Wouldn't surprise me if you've never witnessed it from the female perspective."

"Oh, fuck off," he said. "Let those memories with Sarah play out until the end and you'll see plenty of perspective."

"Nope." She was shaking her head, rapidly. "Shant do that."

"Do you really think she would have stuck around with me for as long as she did if I wasn't pulling my weight?"

"Who knows," she muttered. "She was in love with you. Love makes you stupid."

He grew quiet at that, though Dominique couldn't tell if it was because of what she'd said or whether he was having something play across his mind. Either way, she let it play out in silence until he looked back at her. His voice was soft. "I really hurt her"

"Did you need a memory to know that?"

He rubbed his eyes before letting his hand fall lazily into his lap. "Alright, here's a secret for you." He looked her straight in the eyes." I didn't cheat on Sarah. Not as I told her, at least."

She felt her body go slack. "What?"

"I didn't cheat on her," he said. "Not the kissing part, at least."

"You...?" She focused her gaze sharply onto him. "Why...? You made that up?"

"You can obviously check."

She blinked a few times as a vague picture of a dank, dark cave appeared—the feeling of despair, fear, and exhaustion were now overwhelming her to the point where she couldn't have finished this thought if she wanted to. There was a feeling of trauma that she'd never experienced in her life before and hoped to never feel again. All she knew was that if he still managed to kiss someone while feeling all of that, then he was capable of some extreme compartmentalization. He truly had been on the edge of death.

"What?" she asked again, finding that it was the only word she could stammer out. "Then why did you tell her…?"

"I don't remember why," Louis said slowly, his eyes on the ground. "I don't even remember doing it, or why I said the things I said to her. I was on a lot of potions and…" He shrugged. "Maybe I thought I did? That whole month is a blur, if I'm honest. But I was in dreadful shape that night in that cave, so I know I wouldn't have..." He trailed off before letting his gaze settle on her. "I know I wouldn't have. I don't see how I could have. I was dying."

"Ok..." she said slowly, trying to wrap her head around this. "So, you didn't kiss this girl—Amalie—but you did still tell me that you had feelings for her at Christmas time. Is that still true?"

His face immediately brightened up with a wide smile. "Yeah, that parts true. I'm in love with her. She's amazing. I mean, I would have broken up with Sarah either way since I'd didn't have feelings for her and moved on, but it didn't happen as I said it did."

Dominique stared blankly back at him. Wait, had he said love? He was in love? Actual love? Was he serious? How was that possible? He'd been in love with Sarah less than a few months ago. He was seriously trying to tell her that he'd not only moved on almost instantly, but was in love?

"You're...in love with her?"

Louis nodded affirmatively, still smiling. "Absolutely."

She continued to stare at him, but was already trying to search his memories to get to the bottom of this. She wanted to find something that could somehow make sense of everything he was claiming since it all seemed rather ridiculous. If she retraced things, perhaps she could understand what had happened between him and Amalie to make him fall so hard, so fast; what would have caused him to break up with Sarah for her.

But the memory did not seem to be readily coming.

It wasn't love at first sight, that much she could immediately tell. Their initial meeting was boring and typical; there were no feelings to be sensed on his end anywhere in that memory. She then let some of their interactions around Durmstrang play out, but still, nothing special; they were cordial at best. Even the night of the first task, they'd wished each other good luck before the start and there wasn't a single trace of love, lust, or even like floating around that memory.

Then the cave. Whatever happened there was a loss—Louis' brain had blacked much of that night out. Even his recovery in the hospital, and the time after he'd been released, were a mess of fuzzy, potion induced visions and hazy details—nothing concrete. It went so far that even his breakup with Sarah was barely registering in his memories. He truly did seem to not remember much of it.

The haze had lifted once he was home from Hogwarts for the holidays—his memories began to look clearer again—but she was still searching for any trace of him falling for Amalie. By the time he got to Beauxbatons, things became bizarre. She could see his and Zara's arrival; the images of a vast palace and people in blue robes queued up to watch them, but just as quickly, everything disappeared into almost a thick cloud of nothing. She saw visions of him walking the grounds, and talking to people, and eating in the palace, and then out of nowhere, the cloud would randomly appear.

There was no Amalie anywhere to be found. There were memories of him talking about her—to Zara and to strangers—and when he spoke of her, she could again feel that overwhelming sense of warmth and bliss that she'd experienced a few times now at the mention of her. But there was no Amalie. She hadn't been in a single memory since Durmstrang. No run-ins, no conversations, no seeing her from across a crowded room. Nothing.

She blinked, now feeling more confused than before. What was happening? Had he even spoken to her—seen her?—since coming to Beauxbatons? They would have had to have run into each other with all of the tournament stuff happening. He spoke of her in his memories as if she'd clearly been around.

She could barely find words. This didn't make any sense. "Louis, when did you fall in love with her?"

He was already shrugging, laughing rather airily. "I don't know. There's not exactly a specific moment. It just happens." He smiled. "She's amazing."

"Right, you've mentioned that," she said, staring at him rather curiously. "But can you give me a time or a location where you think you may have, because I'm having a hard time finding—?"

"Look, if you can't see it, I'll consider that a good thing," he said with a nod. "Some things are meant to be kept private. Maybe I've still got some private memories left."

That made no sense. From what she gathered, his memories couldn't pick and choose what she could see. She could see what he had chosen to remember. If she couldn't see it, that meant he hadn't made a memory of it. She could see everything else—sex with his ex, kissing games he played back when he was younger, what he'd had for breakfast the morning of the second task, random conversations—she should be able to see the moments that inevitably led him to fall in love with this girl.

She took a very heavy breath. "Ok, so you're in love with her. Does that mean...something? Are you together? Is this a thing?"

His face fell. It fell into a very hard frown. "No." He looked away. "She won't even talk to me. I fucked up and I've been trying really hard to fix it, but it's proven to be difficult."

Well, the part about her not talking to him was the first thing he'd said that made any bloody sense. "What did you do?"

"I never told her about Sarah. I never mentioned I had a girlfriend before. I don't know why, but it never came up."

Dominique let her eyes narrow. She was wondering if maybe it never came up because they barely seemed to have spoken to each other. They probably hadn't talked about a lot of things.

"When the Prophet reported it," he continued, "the French papers also picked it up." His expression turned somehow sadder. "She wasn't happy about it. She called me a liar. Said she couldn't trust me. But she can trust me, and I've told her that." He sounded a bit desperate as he spoke. "It was a mistake. I love her."

"Yes, we've established that," she mumbled, just as another thought immediately occurred to her. "Wait, isn't she a mind reader or something? Shouldn't she have been able to, I don't know, read your mind and see you had a girlfriend? Why was that a surprise to her?"

He blinked at her. For a moment she had thought she'd made him realize something, but it was short lived once he started to laugh. She got the impression he thought it had been a stupid comment. "No. She told me she didn't know. That means she didn't know."

"But if she can read minds…"

His expression grew slightly more harsh. He didn't seem fond of her continuously pointing this out. "She said she didn't know, She wouldn't lie to me."

"She wouldn't?"

"No, she wouldn't," he said sharply. "She's perfect. She doesn't lie. And obviously, she wouldn't be angry with me if she'd already known. That wouldn't make any sense. This is all my fault."

They stared at each other; him seemingly willing her break eye contact first because he apparently wasn't going to. She did eventually concede with a heavy sounding. "Alright then."

Like the flip of a switch, Louis' terse nature disappeared and he was back to smiling again. "Amalie may be angry with me, but there's a connection and I know she can feel it. I'll make it right. I'm fighting for it. She's perfect, Nic. I've never felt this way about anyone before, but I'm sure you can see that now that you've got everything of mine up in your head. I can't wait for you to meet her."

What the fuck…? She'd had a lot of very strange, very weird things happen to her today, but Louis' behavior when it came to this girl was starting to make all of that seem very normal. This was not how her brother acted. He didn't fall for girls like this. He was cool and charming and collected. Not...goofy, and weird, and rather pathetic.

"I'm hoping to show her I'm not so bad once we're at Hogwarts," he continued. "Back at home where there are no real distractions and I'm in my element."

She started rubbing her temples. "For fuck's sake, Lou."

He never stopped smiling, shrugging now in a happy sort of way. "Anyway, I know that was a lot to take in, but I think those are my major surprises. You would know almost everything else. Though, if you dig deep enough, I'm sure you'll find something."

"I'm not looking to dig," she said, her head hurting. "I'm looking to kill it and make it go away."

"That's not happening tonight," he said, turning to walk down the small corridor toward the back of the bus. "I'm getting a snack? You want something?"

"No," she mumbled, assuming he was heading back to retrieve some food. It gave her several minutes to collect her thoughts—her thoughts, not his—and attempt to make some sort of fucking sense as to what was happening to her. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to last week. She wanted to go back to normal.

Louis returned after five minutes with a bag of some sort of chocolate sweets in his hand. He held it out for her to take some, which she declined, before he went and sat down opposite of her on the sofa once more.

"Your turn," he said, his mouth full.

"My turn?"

"You might as well accept that and air your dirty secrets while you have a chance to defend yourself. Unless you've got nothing to hide other than the weird sex with Davies."

She blinked at him. As much as talking about her sex life with her brother was the thing nightmares were made of, she did find herself taken by the fact that he seemed to have come back down to Earth again after that bizarre display minutes ago. Even the way he was looking at her was far more what she was used to.

"It wasn't weird, it was normal."

"No such thing as normal with that arsehole." He suddenly closed his eyes tightly, which she now understood to be the expression he made to shake off unwanted images. "Gross. Here's hoping that's the worst of it."

She swallowed hard. Fuck. It was the moment of truth. He was going to find out. She didn't even have anything small and stupid to tell him about to break the ice with. The biggest secret she had was the one that directly affected him. He was going to find out that she'd fancied Jack for ages now and that they'd been messing around. They'd both lied through omission and he was essentially one of the last people to know. Even worse was that since she and Jack were currently on the outs, there wasn't even a reason for Louis to know. He was only finding out because there was no way he wasn't going to stumble across it.

"You fancied him more than you let on," he said suddenly, catching her off-guard as he shook his bag of chocolates in order to search for stragglers at the bottom. She was about to panic, thinking he was referring to Jack, but he quickly added, "Davies. You always played it off as if you really couldn't be bothered; that you couldn't stand him, but I can feel how you felt. It definitely wasn't nothing. It was something."

"Fuck off," she said, not wanting to talk about her feelings for Davies in any capacity. Then again, she didn't want to talk about her feelings for Jack either. Neither seemed like a better choice.

"I'm just saying," Louis said, smirking as he sat back down. "It makes a little more sense now. The whole up and down and back and forth. I took you at your word, so I thought you were mental when you kept on with him. But now I can actually feel it and it makes more sense. There are actually a few decent moments."

"No there's not!"

"Yes, there are. Here at someone's graduation party, for example," he said, pointing to his head. "I can't tell whose it is, but I remember that garden so I had to be there as well. You two seem almost sweet out there sitting next to each other."

"You need to stop," Dominique said, reaching out to find a pillow to throw at him. "I'm serious."

"I didn't even know you were capable of this side of a relationship," he joked, dodging the pillow. "You always act as if you're allergic to it all."

"Seriously, stop!"

"Why?" he asked. He was certainly back to normal now. Granted it was the bratty and obnoxious side of himself, but at least she recognized this person. "This isn't bad. It's kind of nice to see this side of you. One day I hope to see more of it once you meet somebody who's not a loser."

She looked down at her hands, which were clasped so tightly together that they were turning various shades of red and white at the same time. She was bouncing her knees up and down. Her heart was racing and she could feel it thumping in her ears. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. It was now or never.

"I think I have already."

"Have what?"

Her knees bounced faster. He was staring at her, and in her paranoid state of mind she assumed he was already seeing something. Her mouth felt dry as she finally stammered out. "Jack."

"What about him?"

"Just…" She waved her hand as if to tell him to go ahead. "Jack and me. Just think about it and let it come to you, But also, be warned."

She didn't want to look at him, but she also couldn't look away as she watched something very clearly dawn across his face. His eyes went wide and he suddenly let the bag he'd been holding fall rather dully down beside him. He stood up then, as if he'd been ejected from his seat. Without a word, he walked over to the door of the bus, opened it, and walked outside.

She exhaled slowly. Alright, then. She glanced around, not sure if she should follow him or stay put. Her knees had stopped bouncing, but the anxiousness was still surging through her like a potion stuck directly into her veins. She felt twitchy and unsettled, though she didn't have much time to focus on the feeling since not even a minute after he'd left, Louis returned, shut the door behind him, and rounded on her.

"What!?" he shouted, noticing immediately that he didn't sound angry, but he did sound shocked.

She shrugged, attempting to remain collected.

The door to Zara's room suddenly opened and she popped her head out, looking confused. They quickly realized that as soon as Louis had walked outside, the muffling spell would have disappeared considering he was the one who cast it. "Is everything alright?"

Louis turned to her, still looking rather slack jawed. "Just found out my sister is in love with my best friend. Completely normal shit you hear every day."

Dominique was about to open her mouth to protest the use of the word 'love' since—while he apparently was willing to fall into it with the first girl to come around—for her, that was a huge, huge step. She didn't get the chance since Zara, rather cavalierly said, "Oh yeah, I've known that for ages."

"Sorry!?" Louis said to her, before looking back at Dominique. "She knows?!" He looked back at Zara. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Um, I did tell you. You laughed and told me to stop making things up."

"You were serious!?" he said. "I thought you were taking the piss!"

"I mean, I didn't push it since it wasn't really my business to tell." Zara shrugged. "But I did try to warn you."

Louis made a noise of complete shock, but Dominique gaped at her. "Wait, if it's not your business to tell, then why are you telling it? And you're the one who told Jack in the first place— at the Trials!"

"That was Erin," Zara said matter-of-factly. "I was just an accessory to that." She shrugged and looked back over at Louis. "Either way, where have you been?"

"I don't know," Louis said, thumping back down into his seat. "How did I not know?"

"You have been rather...preoccupied," Zara muttered in an oddly specific sort of way.

Louis pointed at Zara, as if signaling for her to leave and that he and Dominique still needed to talk. He already had his wand out, and Dominique wasn't sure if she was about to get cursed or not. As soon as Zara was gone, he was casting yet another sound muffling charm. He turned to her as soon as he was done and said nothing. He just stared at her.

She forced an awkward smile. "You probably have some questions—"

"Of course I do!" he said loudly, almost sputtering. "And how exactly did this start at Quidditch Trials if you were with Davies until a couple months ago? What exactly is the timeline of this because I can't place an actual beginning? You're all over the fucking place. When did this start?"

"We seem to have the exact same question," she said, thinking about Amalie and the lack of any beginning to that story; she wasn't about to bring that up again, though. In her case, Louis just had to do a little digging. She knew the memories were there—jumbled, but there.

Still, she sat up straighter and proceeded to lay out a very succinct, no frills, barely detailed timeline for him that spelled out how things had occurred. She'd fallen for Jack over the summer, things grew at the Trials, she got scared of her feelings and ran back to Davies, things changed around the holidays, and how they'd hooked up a few times since, though they hadn't in awhile because...

She stopped once she noticed she'd lost Louis about halfway through her story to something he was currently seeing. He was looking at the floor in a vacant way, as if concentrating on something.

"Hold on, you two snogged while I was asleep in the same room?!"

Oh, right, he must have seen their first proper kiss. That wasn't so bad. She could handle that. "I mean, it was only kissing. And you were completely out cold after all the drinking and crying you'd—"

Louis' face twisted into shock. "Wait, was that the night Sarah and I split up?! Are you serious? That's the night you two...?!"

She stared at him. She'd assumed he'd already put that together.

"Un-fucking-believable," he muttered, laughing in disbelief as he rubbed his hand down his face.

She was having a really hard time reading how he felt about this. He was clearly very shocked, but he still didn't seem upset at the news. When she'd found out about him and Sarah, she was already cursing him out by now. She certainly wasn't having a bit of a laugh in between shocked outbursts.

"And then the Witch's Wordplay game…." he continued, making a face. "You two just start going at it right over the bloody game. Oh, wait there I am—interrupting."

"I'd stop there before that goes any further," Dominique said urgently. "You won't like what you see if you let that keep going. Though, you probably would get a laugh out of dad knocking on the door."

"Did dad catch you?" Louis asked, though he quickly answered his own question. "No, you somehow..." He suddenly hung his head and started groaning loudly, his eyes closed and his expression pained. "That fucker." He again started to laugh. "I'm going to kill him."

"Are you actually angry?" she asked, not being able to make sense of his reaction. Was he upset or was this a joke to him? Because he almost seemed amused. Rather shocked and clearly uncomfortable, but amused nonetheless.

His brow furrowed. "Are you wondering if I'm going to fly off the handle like you did when you found out about me and Sarah?"

She shifted her weight and sucked her teeth. "I suppose that's what I'm asking."

"Look, even if I did pick up some of your anger issues, remember that I'm still not you." He shook his head. "I'm not angry, no. I'm horrified that I now have access to the two of you and…" He groaned. "But I can't find it in me to actually be upset."

She found herself exhaling in a way that made her realize she'd been mostly holding her breath for the last few minutes. He wasn't upset. And she believed that. She still wasn't sure what he was, exactly, but it wasn't angry and she could live with whatever else he may be.

"Believe it or not, I'm happy for you."

"Come again?" she asked, feeling as if she'd just been smacked upside her head.

He sat up straight and nodded. "Jack's the best guy I know. Without question, he's better than Davies could ever be. Hell, who are we kidding? He's better than me. He's legitimately an all around, stand up human being. Why would I not be happy that you've gone and fallen in love with him? I want you with a good guy."

She shook her head. "I'm not in love with him."

"Like hell you're not," he said. "I can feel how you felt in your memories. You can't deny that stuff anymore."

"I'm not denying that I fancy him and I have feelings for him," she said. "But it's not love. Love is..."

"Is...what?" Louis asked, urging her to continue.

"I wouldn't even know how to be in love with someone. That's so...real and…" She squirmed in her seat. "I don't know. It's not that, alright?"

Louis was looking at her funny now, as if she'd just said something tremendously stupid. He'd gone through a phase when they were about ten when he'd been reading and learning everything he could about magic before they left for school. If she ever dared to ask a question that he considered dumb, he would look at her just like that—as if to say, "How can you not know that? It's obvious." She hasn't seen that look in a long time, but now she was getting it full on.

"Nic, no one knows until they are. But, the feelings I'm getting right now when I see the two of you in these memories..." He smiled. "He makes you really happy. And I'm starting to think this is less that you don't feel it and more that you're actively fighting it."

She shook her head. What the hell did Louis know? He was currently completely cracked on a girl he barely knew and had barely spoken to. He claimed that was love, which went to show his definition of love couldn't be trusted.

For once in her life, she could say with complete certainty, "You have no idea what you're talking about."


	4. The Portrait

"Good Morning!" said a man's voice, accompanied by the sound of curtains being vigorously pulled back. Sunlight suddenly flooded Dominique's senses and revealed that it was evidently morning.

She found her eyes opening slowly, taking several seconds to remember where she was and why a man she didn't recognize was in her room. But she wasn't in her room, she was on the sofa in a bus that looked like a small home. She turned over to see a short, stocky bald man going about his business, using his wand to tidy up pillows and other various things around the bus. She watched him for a moment, but was afraid to ask who he was. A stranger part of her sensed she already knew him; she had visions of him in this very bus now flashing past her.

She felt as if she'd just fallen asleep minutes before. Louis and she had finished talking and called it a night around midnight, but she'd slept restlessly. She'd tossed and turned and woken multiple times feeling wide awake. Each time it had been a task to fall back asleep, except for now when she felt as if she could easily roll over and pass back out. But this random man apparently wasn't going to let that happen.

"Oh, hello!" he said, now taking her in as he observed her watching. "Hope I didn't startle you!"

"Sort of," she said, looking around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Seven sharp," he said, with a smile. "It's when our day begins, and you've got a busy one ahead of you, Miss Weasley." He set the pillows he'd gathered onto the sofa across from her. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Timmith Albeline. I'm with the Ministry of Magic and I am the Hogwarts appointed liaison for the tournament. I've been with your brother and Miss Zabini since day one."

"So, you're their chaperone?" she asked.

"And a tutor and your contact to the outside world," he added in an almost sing-song way. "I was supposed to head back to England today, but I've been requested to stay on with you and your brother while you remain here in France for a few more days. I happily obliged, of course!"

No one should be this bloody chipper. He had to be on some sort of potion or spell that made him speak every word in the most overly excited manner possible. He was now gesturing for her to rise from the sofa so that he could presumably her fold blankets and set the area right. She wasn't sure what the hurry was—what exactly was this busy day he spoke of?—but she stood because she wasn't sure what else to do.

"Happy to see you've found your belongings!" he said, gesturing to her bag that was sitting on the floor. "Miss Zabini has already left and I'll have her room remade up for you while we remain here. Far more comfortable than the sofa!"

"Ok," she said, still unsure as to where to go or what to do while he hurried around folding and putting blankets away. From behind her, Louis' door opened and she immediately turned to greet him—happy to now have him present. He emerged looking just as sleepy as she did, but other than yawn, he didn't seem out of sorts. Timmith, however, seemed shocked to see him.

"You're awake!"

"Should I not be?" Louis asked, rubbing his face. "I know you talk in that loud voice on purpose to wake me up."

"I do, yes," Timmith said. "But it never works. It usually takes me at least four attempts to finally get you to rise. And that's with a spell!"

Dominique smirked a little. Four attempts was actually really good. It usually took most people far more. Jack and Flynn were known to actually have poured water on his head to get him out of bed for class if he was especially tired—and if they were feeling especially pranky. Sarah said she'd been known jump on the bed with him in it, while Dominique would always just pinch his nose shut until he woke up sputtering. He really did sleep like the dead.

"I just woke up today," Louis said with a shrug. "I didn't take my potion last night, so that's probably why. It's always easier to wake up when I don't."

"Mr. Weasley, you're supposed to take your anxiety potion every night."

"Yes, I'm aware of the routine I've been on for a decade," Louis mumbled, throwing Dominique a roll of his eyes. "But I was fine. Nothing happened. Slept like a baby."

"I didn't," Dominique muttered. "I slept like rubbish. I kept waking up."

"I'm sure you'll have a better evening once you're in a proper bed!" said Timmith, smiling again as he set off toward the back of the bus and the stairs that led up to the second level. "Now, I'll leave the two of you to get ready. I thought we'd have breakfast here today in order to get straight into lessons."

"Lessons?" Dominique asked.

"Why can't we have breakfast up at the school?" Louis asked.

"Because there is much to do today, Mr. Weasley!' Timmith said. "And seeing as Miss Weasley has never been inside the palace, it's best to wait until later to properly show her around." He looked at Dominique. "Madame Maxime has a tour of the grounds and palace planned for you this afternoon. Very nice of her. Such a lovely woman—very fond of your mother! But I'll go over the day's itinerary over breakfast and once you're dressed."

With that Timmith disappeared up the stairs in a hurry, and Dominique suddenly wondered if he'd been up there last night. How had he not come down yesterday when she'd arrived? She was now scanning the back of the bus when Louis—who must have sensed her curiosity—said, "He's a bit much at first, but you'll get used to him. He's absolutely brilliant. He knows everything about everything. He's just...a bit off. Socially."

"Why am I just now meeting him? Was he upstairs last night?"

"Yeah," Louis said, turning back toward his room. "Whole upper deck is his. He goes to sleep at eight o'clock exactly every night and he's very much obsessed with rules and order, so he was probably asleep when we got in. I'm showering first."

They showered and dressed, with Dominique now investigating the room that Zara had abandoned with her departure that morning. It was plain, but comfortable; with a bed, dresser, a window, and enough room to stand around in. Louis' room was directly across the hall and just beyond that toward the back of the bus was a bathroom equipped with a shower, toilet, and sink. A kitchen area was across the hall; beyond that, at the very back of the bus, there was a large table that comfortably sat four, but could easily fit six people. Dominique noticed that half of it was covered in books and stacks of parchment, as well as inkwells and quills.

Louis had gone to the kitchen and set up a kettle. With a few flicks of his wand, he'd managed to charm itself to heat up and was now waiting for the water to boil. Unsure of what to do or where to be, Dominique went and sat at the table opposite all of the books and supplies and watched him.

"Did you see anything else fun last night?" Louis asked, now fumbling through a cabinet for teacups.

She shook her head. She'd been rather tired when they'd both finally decided to sleep last night, but she had poked around a little bit in some of his thoughts. She'd at first been drawn to memories of her brother and Jack, mostly from their holiday lads' trip. Once she realized that those thoughts were a fuzzy, unintelligible mess of alcohol and grass infused nights, she'd eventually drifted over to them when they were younger.

She'd been amused at some of their early adolescent conversations—the ones Louis had remembered enough to flesh out a decent memory. How to know if a girl really fancied them, when to make a proper move, and getting really excited about finally getting to touch a tit. She'd fallen asleep before she'd gotten any further, but there was something about a baby faced, thirteen-year-old Jack that made her smile when she revisited. She'd never paid much attention to him at the time.

"Yeah, me neither," Louis said, and she immediately wondered how sincere he was being. The sounds of footsteps down the stairs became apparent and Timmith appeared with a box in his hand and held it up proudly.

"Pastries!" he offered, setting them on the table beside Dominique. "Help yourself. Oh, good, the kettle's already on!" He looked at Dominique. "And how do you take your tea?"

"I know how she takes it," Louis said, fumbling around in the kitchen and pouring hot water into teacups. "Don't know if you know this, Tim, but she and I have met before."

"Timmith, please," he said, correcting him. "You know how I feel about nicknames, Mr. Weasley. And yes, obviously I know you've met. She's your twin sister!" He laughed. "Obviously you've met!"

Louis was laughing to himself before he turned to hand Timmith a cup of his own. "Right. Obviously."

Dominique raised her eyebrow in a curious manner at that entire exchange, watching as Louis brought her over tea while he and Timmith took seats around the table. They got situated and helped themselves to breakfast. Timmith suddenly pulled out a sheet of parchment and cleared his throat.

"Now, today will be very busy," he said. "Professor DiSilva has classes all day until four, and that is when he'd like to see the two of you. He can't say for how long, but I'd expect several hours. That will be the schedule for today, tomorrow, and Friday. This weekend's schedule will be determined by the progress made over the next few days and the time Professor DiSilva has free."

"Gee, here's hoping he can squeeze us in this weekend after mucking us up in the first place," Louis mumbled with his mouth full of pastry. "I'd hate to get in the way of his plans."

"I'm sure you're his top priority," Timmith said, not catching Louis sarcasm. "But he is still a teacher with responsibilities to his students."

"Is there no one back home who can do this?" Dominique asked. "This man is the only person?"

"Oh, I assure you that there are people back home who are now on alert as to how to figure this out, but it was Professor DiSilva's work in the first place, so we're hoping he can just as quickly fix it." Timmith smiled. "Brilliant man. Truly a legend in the field of Legilimency and mental magic."

"Psycho," Louis said into a loud cough. Dominique caught it, but Timmith didn't.

"As for the rest of your day," Timmith continued. "We have lessons until one, then a late lunch—so be sure to get your fill of pastries! We'll head up to the palace to eat, and then as I said, Madame Maxime has arranged a tour for you, Miss Weasley. That will last roughly up until it's time to meet ProfessorDiSilva at four. Then a late dinner."

Louis groaned. "That's a long day."

"You're free after lunch, Mr. Weasley. Until you have to meet with Professor DiSilva. You've already done the tour, so there's no reason—"

"No, I'll do it again with her," Louis said, nodding at Dominique. "What else am I going to do?"

Dominique suddenly got a random flash of Louis being walked along brightly lit corridors with large windows. Zara was standing beside him and they looked to be observing a painting of some stuffy old wizard on the wall.

"You can do whatever you like!" Timmith said, now listing off alternatives such as napping, studying, or reading. It was then that Dominique realized that he was incapable of not answering a question he was asked. He didn't understand the idea of a rhetorical question.

"You keep mentioning lessons," Dominique said. "What lessons are you talking about?"

"Oh!" Timmith said, gesturing over toward the stack of books on the other end of the table. "Why, your school lessons, of course. You can't expect to miss a week of school during a N.E.W.T. year!"

Her face fell a little. While he was absolutely right, she especially couldn't afford to fall behind in school anymore than she already had, she hadn't anticipated spending her days at Beauxbatons stuck in the back of the bus doing school work. Was Timmith here expected to teach her every subject? And Louis as well? Did he not understand that they were in completely different leagues academically?

"Now, Mr. Weasley is studying our usual five subjects. While you, Miss, Weasley, are studying Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and Astronomy. You've got three subjects where you overlap, which will make that easy to instruct. And Mr. Weasley, while we work on some of the more experimental potion recipes today, I'll have Miss Weasley do a basic Charms revision that I've put together so I can gauge where you are."

"You put it together?" she asked, half expecting the work to come from Flitwick himself. "What exactly do you do again? For a living, I mean."

"Classified," Louis said, though he sounded as if he was joking.

"When I'm not here," Timmith said, "I work for the Department of Mysteries. I was specifically chosen for this due to my extensive knowledge of...well, everything."

"Everything?"

"He knows everything," Louis said matter-of-factly. "I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that. I've yet to stump him on anything."

Dominique turned back to Timmith. "What do you do at the Department of Mysteries?"

"Classified," Louis repeated.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," Timmith said, and for the first time, the smile on his face slipped every so slightly. It was back in a flash though as he added, "But I assure you I'm incredibly well-versed in any and all subjects! Now, as I was saying..."

Timmith decided he and Louis would work on Potions while Dominique did Charms, and as he disappeared upstairs to get some extra resource materials for the Potions lesson, Dominique nudged her brother. "Who is he? If he knows everything, shouldn't he be some high ranking Ministry official or something?"

"For all we know he is," Louis said, polishing off his third pastry. "No, but honestly, while he's wicked clever, I told you, he's incapable of holding a casual conversation. He has no idea how to read a room or understand a joke. His brain never turns off and he's got one mode and that's what you see. He won't tell me how many he got, but he's probably sitting on twenty something N.E.W.T.s."

"Speaking of those," Dominique said, looking over at him. "Why are you even doing lessons when you don't have to take N.E.W.T.s anymore?"

"Because I still have to go to school and finish my seventh-year curriculum," Louis said in a funny way, sounding as if he was quoting someone specific. "And I only get passes in the core subjects. I'd still have to sit for Arithmancy and Runes if I want credit for them."

"Do you?"

He shrugged. "I've gone this far. Might as well."

Once Timmith returned, he focused on Louis and Potions while Dominique sat with a textbook open and her pages of Charms revisions sprawled out in front of her. She was oddly comforted by the familiarity of her dull school work considering everything in the last few days had been anything but ordinary. As she flipped through the pages of her book, scanning and reading through passages, she went and found the answers easily. It seemed Timmith's review was ridiculously simple. Perhaps Flitwick really should have provided the material since that always kept her busy; this almost felt as if she were doing first-year work. She placed her quill down after about ten minutes.

Timmith looked over at her, noticing she was finished. He and Louis seemed frustrated about something, having been going back and forth for the last few minutes over some kind of Potions detail. Timmith instructed him to keep searching before he slid Dominique's revision over to himself to inspect. "That was quick."

She shrugged. "That was easy."

"Was it?" he asked, curiously. "I did my best to make it varying degrees of difficulty." He began reading it over. "Though, at first glance, it seems correct and you did it incredibly quickly." He smiled. "Is Charms your strong subject?"

Louis stopped working to look at her. She slowly shook her head. "Not particularly. I don't have a strong subject. I just sort of get by in all of them."

Timmith looked up over her work to look at her. "You consider this getting by? You completed it in ten minutes."

"You went easy on me."

"But I didn't," he said, collecting the papers together and setting them aside. "That truly was an advanced revision. It should have taken you half an hour if you did feel comfortable with the subject." He stared at her. "You really don't have a knack for Charms?"

She started to laugh, looking over at Louis for confirmation. "No. Absolutely not. You can ask Professor Flitwick. He's lucky to get half my assignments turned in."

"She's telling the truth," Louis said. "And the half of the assignments she turns in are usually because I've helped her with them."

"Now that is true," she said with an affirmative nod.

"Curious," Timmith said, now glancing over her work once more. "If the both of you don't mind, I'd like to move on to Ancient Runes for the moment."

"But I haven't finished Potions yet," Louis said, gesturing to his work.

"Again, most curious," Timmith said with a furrowed brow. "But yes, I'd like to move on."

Timmith went about setting Runes work in front of both of them. They were translations, much like they were both used to seeing in Tate's class. He asked them both to do their best without a guidebook—a task Dominique found next to impossible because she needed the text—and gave them a time limit to complete the assignment.

Timmith had also taken the text and a quill and began writing something down while she and Louis picked up their own quills and set to work. Louis was moving effortlessly through the assignment as if he had every bloody rune memorized, while she had—maybe—translated three of the easier ones.

Once they finished that, Timmith took their work and compared it, nodding as he went as if to confirm something to himself and commending Louis on his perfect score. He then took two guidebooks and slid them across the table toward them. While they'd been working, he'd created quite an elaborate set of runes translations—how had he had the time to come up with all of that?—and asked them both to decode them now with the assistance of the book.

"They're complicated and very detailed," he said with a smile. "But with the right amount of research, they're identifiable. They certainly aren't something you would have seen before at school. Good luck."

Dominique sighed, lazily picking up her book while Louis dove right in—immediately searching pages and flipping through the text at a rapid speed. Typical, of course. He dove straight in and she meandered her way there at her own pace. She may or may not even finish.

Timmith was watching them both with great interest, which she found rather annoying at first, but she was surprised that—once she began reading through the text—how little she began to notice him. She found the answer to the first one after connecting two different Egyptian time periods together with a bit of light scanning; the next one came after she'd connected multiple civilizations and their own varying degrees of interpretation together. The next three came as she read through chapter twelve, but then remembered something she'd picked up scanning chapters five and six. The more she read through, the more the other symbols started to make sense as she remembered specific decoding methods that were detailed throughout some of the later chapters.

After about an hour, she felt she was done. She put her quill down and glanced over at Louis, noticing that he was still on question...three? Three!?

Timmith took her paper and began looking it over. Louis—who looked rather frustrated with his work—had stopped to watch.

"They're correct," he said, again lowering the paper and glancing at Dominique.

"Are you serious?" asked Louis, his expression completely mystified. "How in the hell...?"

"Language Mr. Weasley," Timmith said, though Dominique wasn't exactly sure 'hell' constituted poor language—at least not to them. His gaze drifted up to Dominique. "Now given your earlier performance, I'm assuming Runes is not your subject either, is it?"

She shook her head and laughed. "No."

"Fascinating," Timmith said, looking over at Louis. "And Mr. Weasley, you're…" He seemed to be inspecting Louis' work from his seat. "Well, you've barely completed the assignment."

"I was still working on it," Louis muttered, slumping in his chair a little.

Timmith laughed in a very strange sort of way. "This certainly explains the Potions confusion from earlier." He smiled at them both. "I have a theory!"

They both stared at him, though neither said anything. Dominique had no idea what was happening, only that this Timmith character seemed overjoyed with himself. Louis beside her seemed annoyed, though whether it was with Timmith's current attitude of something else, she wasn't sure.

"I feel I'll need to present this to Professor DiSilva," Timmith said. "But given what I do know about Mr. Weasley, and what I'm learning slowly about Miss Weasley, I feel as if something else may have shifted between the two of you. Now, Mr. Weasley has always been a model student. Quick to learn and almost always correct in his endeavors. I'm finding out you don't share that with him, Miss Weasley. Is that correct?"

She laughed to herself. "No."

"Right," Timmith said. "Well, today, Mr. Weasley has been struggling with the new information I've provided him, both in Potions and Runes." He looked to Louis for confirmation, but Louis simply sat there staring at him. "Though, it seems, he's still full of retained information that he's already learned in the past. Now, Miss Weasley, you seem to be the opposite. When asked to present your previous knowledge, you floundered. However, when presented with new questions and the means to answer them—" He gestured to her textbooks, "you thrived."

Dominique stared at him. She was in no way following. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Timmith continued. "And while I can't be certain based on the one test I performed, I feel as if you've somehow inherited your brother's incredible ability to learn and process information faster than the average person." He looked at Louis. "And you've lost it."

"I've what?" Louis said, his face growing pale. "Are you saying I can't learn new things?!"

Timmith was shaking his head. "No, nothing like that. If what I'm saying is correct, you can of course learn everything and anything there is to learn!" He smiled at him. "It, however, will take a lot more work and time. It won't come as naturally to you." He looked at Dominique. "And you may find it comes a lot easier to you now. When you read a book, the information will retain much quicker than it has in the past."

"It didn't retain in the past," Dominique said, still not quite understanding what the man was on about. Was she clever now? Was Louis not? She didn't feel any more intelligent than she had before. This didn't make sense.

"But it will now," Timmith said, glancing between the pair of them. "Mr. Weasley, you haven't lost anything—as your Runes work showed, you still remember everything you've learned up until this point. It's simply that going forward may now be a struggle." He turned to Dominique. "And for you, you haven't gained any new knowledge, but you've gained the ability to quickly discover it." He picked up a Runes textbook. "You could read this book cover to cover now and find that the information is now collecting in your brain with ease. If you took the time, you could be worlds more knowledgeable within weeks."

Dominique understood the words coming out of his mouth, but she still wasn't entirely sure she followed. He was theoretically saying that she could start reading textbooks and, instead of being bored after two or three paragraphs, actually find interest in them and gain a wealth of knowledge that would stay with her—much like Louis always had. Did that mean that all she had to do to pass her N.E.W.T.s now was read?

"So," Louis said, still seemingly struggling to process what Timmith was suggesting. "You're saying that I'm not just having a shitty day—"

"Language!"

"—and my inability to focus isn't random. It's...this is my new normal? I've lost…" He inhaled rather sharply. "You cannot be serious."

Dominique looked over at him, immediately feeling his sense of loss and confusion and not knowing the words to say to make him feel better. This wasn't good. How could it be when one of the only things he'd ever known—his ability to learn—was now completely backwards? Louis was Louis because of how quickly he picked things up. It was such a huge part of him.

"Again, it's a theory, Mr. Weasley," Timmith said. "I plan on running it by Professor DiSilva when we see him later and he can deduce things further. And, even if it were true, even at seventeen, you were already far more clever than the average wizard. You still are far more clever than the average wizard. You could stop studying today and still be far more clever than the average wizard based on your previous knowledge. You would be perfectly fine in life, I assure you."

"I don't want to be 'fine in life,'" he snapped, standing from the table all of the sudden. "And who are you to tell me I should be fine with being 'fine? Do you understand what I may have just lost? This isn't a bunch of memories! This is who I am! This is my fucking life!'" He turned and walked away after that; back to his room, where he slammed the door behind him and left her and Timmith sitting at the table together.

Timmith shook his head. "Language."

Dominique glared at him. "Seriously? You're worried about his language after all of that?"

Timmith sighed. "I'm not a fan of foul language under any circumstances. Especially from people who have the vocabulary to do better." He glanced at the book. "Now, seeing as your brother clearly needs a few minutes to calm himself, shall we do Astronomy?"

Dominique made a face. "You have a lot of fucking nerve."

Despite Timmith's many attempts, Louis didn't bother to leave his room for the rest of the morning. Dominique had attempted to talk to him, but he'd told her he just wanted to be alone. That left her on her own with this strange, but brilliant man who was attempting to help her maximize her new learning potential. She truly felt as if she'd stepped into an alternate universe when it was her sitting at the table with the books open while Louis was off sulking.

She managed to get a lot of work done in the hours she sat there, and it never once felt like much of a struggle. If this really was how Louis' brain functioned, then no wonder he always made everything seem so easy. It was easy. She could read some pages and actually remember the content; she could see how things interconnected to create complex magic. She could make sense of concepts she'd heard a hundred times and never fully understood. It was as if someone had opened a door to a new world.

She decided to downplay it, however—despite Timmith telling her how she really should be using every free second she could to gain additional information. He seemed to be under the impression that even if DiSilva managed to set them right in the near future, anything she'd have learned in the interim would carry with her after the fact. Now was the time to make the most of it.

But she didn't want to spend every waking minute she had now studying and learning. Yes, it was easier and more interesting, but it still wasn't what she'd consider a fun way to spend her free time. She was in France, at an entirely different wizarding school. The weather outside was cold, but lovely; it reminded her of early spring time at Hogwarts and was beckoning her outside to enjoy it and explore her surroundings. Not sit in a cramped bus.

Louis emerged just before one o'clock—the time they were supposed to leave for lunch. He said little, but Dominique could sense that he'd calmed a bit as they finally exited the bus and were hit with a breezy mountain chill. He was walking with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, and she kept stride with him while Timmith walked several paces ahead and spoke about the architecture of the palace once it came in view.

It was a magnificent looking building. Large and rather white, with an almost glittering quality to it once the sun hit it just so. It was somehow currently glittering even if afternoon clouds had rolled in. While Hogwarts tended to loom a bit forebodingly, but Beauxbatons announced itself rather regally. It gave off the impression to Dominique that it probably wanted to be visible to not only wizards, but Muggles as well. The palace wanted to be looked at; being unplottable was not something it was meant to do.

"Everything will go back to normal," Dominique said to Louis as they walked.

"What makes you so sure?"

She shrugged, not having much of an answer for that as Timmith led them through a courtyard that was covered with flowers, despite the fact that it was still winter and they should all be dead. It was jarring to see, but also so very beautiful.

The doors to the palace were large and gold in color with ornate details and intricate carvings. Dominique had wanted to stop and look, but they opened on their own as Timmith approached and brushed right past them—clearly having seen them many times prior. Even Louis didn't give them a second glance.

The inside of the palace was immediately striking because it was brighter than any room inside of Hogwarts. She'd gotten a partial glimpse of the interior yesterday when they'd exited the hospital wing, but they'd been led out to an alternative exit that hadn't allowed much to see. Now, standing in the entrance of Beauxbatons, she immediately saw why everyone—her mother especially—had always said Hogwarts was so dark. Instead of fire lit torches lining the walls, there was light streaming from large windows in adjacent rooms. There were no suits of armor or stone walkways; there was shiny marble and carved statues. The portraits were all quite similar and moving about in their frames, but otherwise, it was already startlingly different.

"Dining Chamber is this way," said Timmith, noticing that Dominique was dragging behind. "Most of the students should be finishing up and heading to their afternoon classes, so it hopefully shouldn't be too crowded."

As they turned the corner, that was when people came into view. People her age and younger, all dressed in power blue robes over similarly colored uniforms. Boys had on navy trousers and blue shirts while many of the girls either dressed similarly or instead wore powder blue skirts. And hats, so many of them were wearing the same hats that Dominique had seen in her mother's old school photos. She had always assumed that was more of a formal piece of attire, but apparently, that was not the case.

The students were coming and going, many pouring out of a room with an incredibly large entryway. They were mostly all turning in the opposite direction—toward where Dominique assumed the actual school was—and it reminded her of the typical, everyday hustle and bustle of a normal Hogwarts' day. They didn't seem to even take notice or care about Timmith now making his way through the crowd.

She had been seconds away from finding it all fairly remarkable that no one seemed to care that they were there, but that was before she noticed heads starting to turn and bodies starting to come to a standstill. People were pointing, mostly at Louis, though she was getting some curious looks as well. It seemed as if they could place her face, but not quite figure out how they knew her. Then the whispering started.

Timmith had disappeared inside the Dining Chamber where people were exiting, and Louis had stopped to make sure she wasn't getting lost in the shuffle of people who were now stopped in their tracks. She noticed that he smiled and said polite hellos to a few people, but had quickly reached out to guide her by the shoulders the rest of the way. Someone with a heavy Italian accent shouted, "What happened to you?" while someone else shouted, "Are you not leaving?"

Louis didn't answer anyone, just pushed Dominique into the Dining Chamber. It was there that he let go of her, but gestured for her to follow him away from the flow of people exiting and still pointing at them; some were still shouting hellos and questions at him.

She glanced around, immediately taken by how large the room was. Twice the size of the Great Hall, it also had floor to ceiling windows that allowed for more light than Hogwarts had ever seen, as well as a rather breathtaking view of the Pyrenees mountains. Around the room, there weren't four long, house tables that took up most of the room, but rather many smaller tables scattered throughout—allowing for groups to sit together more privately. There did seem to be a head table at the far side of the room for teachers, but it was currently being used as a stage for a large collection of singing fairies, all of whom were effortlessly serenading the students who were still eating.

"The wood nymphs," Dominique whispered to herself, remembering her mother's story of how they would sometimes appear to sing while she ate. No one else in the room seemed to be even paying attention to them, but Dominique was captivated. She watched as they finished their song and suddenly—as a single unit—floated up into the air toward the large and ornate chandelier that hung in the center of the room. It was clear they had done this hundreds of times before, because each nymph knew exactly what spot to take and where to position themselves. Within moments of settling, a new song had already started. Though again, no one in the room even batted an eye; they were all too wrapped up in themselves or with her and Louis' sudden arrival.

Timmith had gone to an empty table that Louis quickly joined. She followed suit, and as she pulled out a chair, she wondered how exactly this worked here. At Hogwarts—with the exception of the special feasts—the food was always just there when she'd approached a table for meals. Here, the table was bare; still everyone else had plates of food in front of them.

"Here," said Louis, handing her what looked like silverware rolled up in a cloth napkin that he acquired from somewhere. "Take it."

"Ok, but how do we—?"

"Place it on the table, just there," he said, and she noticed Timmith across the table doing the same thing. Within seconds, a plate of food appeared, just as it did for feasts at Hogwarts. She blinked before doing the same, noticing Louis had already made his food appear and was tucking in.

It was a chicken dish with vegetables, and it was delicious. Dominique glanced around the room as she chewed, noticing that almost everyone left in the room was staring at them—many at her—in a curious sort of way. She chewed awkwardly, wondering why exactly they were getting so much attention.

"Shouldn't they be used to you by now?" she asked Louis, gesturing to the rest of the room.

"It wasn't like this before the task," he said as he speared a carrot. "I mean, it was when I first got here, but that wore off and things became mostly normal. Now, I have to assume they're wondering why I'm still here and what happened during the task that forced us to stay here. Also, they're probably keen that you're here now. Remember," he grinned at her, "you're sort of famous, too."

She made a face and slunk down into her seat a bit, now wondering how many of the people in the room had read about her or believed anything they papers had said about her and her family. Worse, what if some of them were the weird ones who'd sent her gifts and letters? She hadn't prepared for any of those encounters. She now oddly missed the privacy of the bus.

Lunch did slowly start to clear out, especially once a loud bell signaled classes were resuming for the afternoon. A handful of people came by the table to say hello to Louis and congratulate him on coming in first in the second task. They all seemed well-meaning enough, and Louis didn't particularly react one way or another to any of them. Also, no memories of interest materialized when Dominique saw their faces, so they really must have just been polite well-wishers. Most let their gazes linger on her for just a touch too long, as if trying to get a peek at her.

By the time they'd finished eating, the Dining Chamber had emptied except for the wood nymphs, who were standing up above them and watching them curiously. Timmith was busy reading over something in a notebook he'd been carrying, and Dominique found herself wondering what was next. That is, until the sound of people entering the Chamber at the entrance suddenly caught her attention.

It was there that two people about her age—a very tall boy with shaggy, dark hair, and a girl with very long, almost to her waist, auburn hair—started walking toward them. They seemed to be having a very chummy conversation, as if they were friendly.

From beside her, Louis immediately smiled and stood up once he'd taken notice. Likewise, the boy, whose face was looking more familiar the closer he drew, smiled once he saw he'd caught Louis' attention.

"Someone looking for a tour of this amazing establishment?" said the boy to Louis, who she now recognized from the paper as Javier Escolera, the Beauxbatons' male champion. She got a quick memory flash of him standing somewhere in the snow. He was wearing a heavy coat and standing next to Louis, both of them looking up at a very large, snow-covered mountain before she returned to reality. He was giving Louis a half hug sort of gesture before laughing. "You got me out of afternoon Potions. Can't tell you how happy I am for that!"

"It's not me, it's her," Louis said, still smiling as he gestured to Dominique. "This is my sister, Dominique. Nic, this is Javi. Javier, or whatever. He's from the tournament too, obviously."

Dominique politely smiled, just as Javier added, "Call me whatever you'd like. I will answer to anything." He turned to the girl with him. "This is Madeline. She's what you would call our Head Girl."

Madeline smiled and offered a polite hello; the pair of them announced that they would be giving them a guided tour of the palace, which Timmith now excused himself from once he knew they were in proper hands. Louis seemed to be in a better mood almost immediately, obviously happy to see his tournament friend for whom he seemed to have a friendly rapport with. When he asked how Javier had gotten the job of tour guide, he was told that both he and Amalie had been offered to do it, but Amalie had declined in favor of Potions' work.

"But I think she does really like Potions," Javier offered, clearly addressing Louis.

Louis looked crestfallen and suddenly grew very sulky. Javier was now attempting to engage him in conversation about horror stories from the second task, but that left Dominique behind with Madeline. She was now staring at her rather blankly.

"Do you want to see the palace?" Madeline offered.

"Yeah, I actually would," she said, letting Madeline begin to give her her own personal tour that started with the Dining Chamber and the view outside of the large windows.

She was soft spoken but incredibly knowledgeable about the small and large details of the palace. While Louis and Javier continued to chat among themselves and hang around the vicinity, Madeline took Dominique from the Dining Chamber to the Awards Rooms, where centuries worth of trophies and accolades were exhibited—much like Hogwarts. She then led them to the Ballroom, which was as large as the Dining Chamber, only much more sophisticated and elaborately decorated with marble pillars and gold looking finishes. Dominique was shocked they had an entire room dedicated to dances.

"We also have music recitals and concerts, as well as other activities in here," Madeline said, watching as Dominique scanned the room. "We do have several balls each year. At least three." She stepped forward to count off on her fingers. "The Winter's Ball before the holidays for the older students. A spring themed dance in early April for the younger students. Then an end of the term ball—the biggest of them all—again for the older students. This year, the Winter's Ball was postponed until after the holidays to coincide with the tournament and the arrival of all the champions."

"I'm so tired of bloody balls," Louis mumbled. Dominique was surprised to see he and Javier were even paying attention from their spot yards away.

"I rather enjoy them," Javier said. "Especially the one we had not long ago. That was the best one I've ever been to."

"Of course you'd say that," Madeline said to him. "You were the center of attention."

Javier shrugged and glanced over at Louis. "Maybe you'll enjoy it more once your school throws one for you. Though, I can't see it topping the way we do things here. We can't be beat."

As they spoke, Dominique saw flashes of this very room, only perfectly decorated in icy blues and silver tones with silks streaming from the windows, magical snow falling from the sky—but never hitting the floor—and ice sculptures that were charmed to switch poses. It looked like a majestic winter wonderland with people in fancy dress and ball gowns; many dancing, and laughing, and enjoying the music.

However, she sensed Louis' mood to be sullen and bored, and given the vantage point she was getting from this memory, he certainly didn't seem to be in the thick of things. He actually seemed to be on the edge of the room, observing everything. That hazy cloud was back again intermittently, making it hard to really tell a story about what had happened that evening.

"Hogwarts has a cozy charm your lot can't touch," Louis offered, cutting into her thoughts. She then noticed he was looking at her for confirmation. "Right, Nic."

She nodded, though, if she were being honest, she found Beauxbatons to be rather charming in a very different way. Hogwarts was home and always would be, but Beauxbatons definitely offered some things that Hogwarts couldn't. She couldn't deny that.

They were led upstairs, where they then explored various wings of the palace with Madeline stopping along the way to point out notable portraits and sculptures with thoughtful details that Dominique couldn't believe anyone would actually know. They were informed how the wings of the school were mostly divided by wand work and tool based magic—one wing for subjects like Potions and Herbology; the other for things like Charms and Transfiguration. Pockets of other areas—such as Mental Magic—also existed, and Dominique made a note as to where this was location since she'd be returning here later.

Madeline led her past a music room, where young students—probably no older than eleven—were currently playing and charming instruments to play very rudimentary tunes under the guise of a very frustrated looking Professor. Beyond that, the Headmistress' office was up a nearby flight of stairs, while another staircase led toward some of the various sleeping quarters.

Dominique discovered that unlike Hogwarts four houses, Beauxbatons had eight—which her mother had most likely told her, though she'd forgotten until this very moment. Madeline proceeded to name them all, though Dominique lost track of the names after the third one.

"And this is the library," Madeline said, indicating a room that had to have been twice the size of Hogwarts' library. Naturally, it was far better lit considering it was covered with more floor to ceiling windows. There was a golden glow bouncing off the shelves of books, all of which reached the high ceilings. It was so warm and bright, it was almost hard to concentrate.

"Did you want to go in?" Javier asked, addressing Dominique.

She shrugged, feeling as if she'd gotten a good look at it from where she was standing. "If you've seen one library, you've seen them all."

"That's not true," Louis said immediately, shaking his head. "And besides—" He stepped forward, beckoning her to follow him. "Come see this."

She followed him along a makeshift path of bookshelves to a destination he clearly had in mind. He'd obviously been here a time or two—she could see flashes of him visiting—which wasn't surprising knowing her brother. Books and girls, two things he could get lost in for hours.

People looked up from their tables and their work as they passed. Some said hello to Louis, though just as many were greeting their Beauxbatons' guides as well. They walked toward the back of the library, with Louis finally stopping and facing the east side of the room. Shelves covered all of the walls, but they didn't reach the ceilings in this part. Here, there were various portraits hung above the shelves, and Dominique immediately realized why Louis had brought her back here as they both stood facing a portrait of their mother.

She was beautiful, as she always was, but there was something about her having her portrait on the wall her—looking the same age as they were—that really drove home how quickly everything changed. She stood smiling proudly, wearing her formal looking hat and school uniform with her long, silvery blonde hair—the same hair Dominique would have if she took care of it as well as her mother had— without a single hair out of place.

She looked so regal and cool—as if she could cut you with a glance but also charm you with a look. Dominique was instantly amused at how much of herself she could see staring back at her, but also Louis. There were even traces of Victoire in the portrait's changing expressions, but if you blinked you would miss them.

"Wow," Dominique said, noticing a small placard at the bottom of the portrait that read "Fleur Delacour. 1995." She would have been seventeen or eighteen. Exactly as she and Louis currently were.

"Yeah," Louis said, "It's strange to see her hanging up there. Just a kid, really." He turned to look at Dominique. "I know everyone says it, but you really do look just like her."

She shook her head. "We're similar looking, but she carries herself entirely differently. You can see it in her face. "Mum would have eaten me alive back then. I feel like she probably had all of my fire and attitude and all of your ability and talent. That's a lethal combination."

"You think?" Louis asked. "I've never gotten that impression. The talent thing, sure, but your attitude? Your ability to cut someone down within seconds?"

"I obviously didn't get it from dad," she said bluntly. "I honestly think dad's the one who calmed her down and mellowed her out. Weren't you the one who said that if she'd gone and married some rich, dress robe like Aunt Gabrielle, she would be chewing up and spitting up people left and right?"

Louis laughed a little, not disagreeing with that. They both stared for another moment before Louis turned away, back toward an awaiting Javier and Madeline, who seemed to be giving them a moment. Dominique followed suit after another few seconds, and just so happened to walk up on Javier commenting on how beautiful their mother was.

"She was," Louis agreed. "And she still is."


	5. Awakened

It was half past three by the time they exited the library, and while Dominique hadn't had the opportunity to see the grounds or Quidditch arena—which was what she was most interested in—she was informed that it was probably best for them to put that off for the following day. As Javier explained, the grounds are so vast that by the time they walked out there, they'd have to turn around and come right back to see DiSilva. And you didn't want to be late to meet with Hector DiSilva.

Javier told Madeline he'd walk them to DiSilva's room and that she was free to go. She didn't argue that, and wished them luck dealing with DiSilva with an apprehensive sort look. The second she had left, Javier nodded to Louis to follow him, which caused Louis to gesture to Dominique to do the same.

They went down some stairs and she found herself confused since—weren't the mental magic rooms the opposite way? They were on the bottom floor now, where Javier quickly turned and continued down a corridor before turning to enter a room. He went through another set of doors, and Dominique started to see signs of plant life and vegetation becoming more apparent. If she didn't know any better, this seemed to be part of the Herbology area.

They passed into another room which led them to a greenhouse filled with plenty of herbs and magical plants. That greenhouse led to another greenhouse, which led to another, and another—though this final one looked to be abandoned. It was dark and dingy and someone was currently using it for storage; boxes and several pieces of dusty furniture stood off to one side. It felt familiar.

"What is this?" Dominique asked, looking around.

"A quiet place to think and kill some time," Javier said, making sure the door was shut behind them. He then immediately went over to a corner of the room and leaned up against the wall, pulling his wand and a small box out of his trouser pockets. Within seconds, he'd produced a cigarette out of that box and stuck it between his lips. He held up the box to offer Louis and Dominique one.

She shook her head, though Louis nodded and stepped forward to take one. She gave him an immediate side eye. "You smoke now?"

"Sometimes," he mumbled, clearly not trying to seem less cool or casual about it as Javier proceeded to light both of them with the tip of his wand. "It's not a big deal."

What the fuck, she thought, rolling her eyes and glancing around the room again and noticing cobwebs all across the ceiling. The windows were thickly covered with dirt and obscuring any view of the outside world. The air was stale and muggy, despite the temperature outside being cool.

"You'll need one too before dealing with DiSilva," Javier said, exhaling smoke as he spoke and flicked away some ash. "The man is intense. And don't even get me started on what the inside of his head is like." He let out a low whisper. "He's fucking insane when you get down to it."

"That's what I told her," Louis said out of the corner of his mouth as he took a drag from his cigarette. Dominique wrinkled her nose at him, already well aware that that was a sight she'd never get used to seeing. "And you're saying this as one of his favorite students."

"Yeah," Javier says, inhaling deeply. "Because I'm the—" He made his voice sound deeper and more serious, "most naturally gifted Legilimens he's come across in ages." He let his voice return to normal. "But that means he wants to keep me around and make me do more work." He looked at Dominique. "He's taken me under his wing as his protegee, which is both a blessing and a curse. He is gifted beyond words and it's helped me with this strange ability I have that most people don't understand, but he's also a lot to deal with."

"Are you going to help him figure out what's happened to us, then?" she asked.

She hadn't expected a real answer, but Javier was surprisingly nodding. "He's got my afternoon's cleared for as long as you're here. I'll be there observing when you go meet with him soon. He told me that this morning."

The door to the greenhouse suddenly swung open once more; Javier and Louis went to put out their cigarettes in a panicked fashion. A pretty girl with thick, wavy brown hair—though the tips were bright blue—and very light eyes walked in and gave the group of them a once over. Dominique didn't recognize her, but she immediately felt as if she knew her—which meant Louis did.

The second she and Javier recognized each other, Javier swore loudly. "Fuck, Jules, you made me waste my cigarette. I thought you were Devereux."

She smirked at him. "Not my fault that you didn't check." She reached into her bag and pulled our cigarettes of her own, now offering him one. "But here, Javi. I'm feeling generous."

He didn't hesitate to pluck two out of her box, though when she protested the second one, he gestured to Louis and said, "He had to put his out, too."

"Then why doesn't he ask me for another?" she said, glancing at Louis with a funny sort of smile. Louis, in turn, shrugged her off as if he wasn't all that interested. A strange sort of silence had come over him, which caused Dominique to glance back at the new girl.

She felt an intense pull at her presence, but she realized that it wasn't her who felt that way, but rather Louis' feelings imposing on her. It had taken an extra second, but several memories flashed by of the two of them—sometimes accompanied by Javier, though oftentimes not—in this very spot, doing the exact same thing they were doing now. Smoking and talking to each other.

There had been a lot of laughter and quite a few lengthy chats between the two of them. And while she couldn't sort out much of what they spoke about, the feeling she got was warm and comfortable. It reminded her of the feelings she would have after a satisfying conversation with someone special; the kind where you walked away still thinking about the conversation much later. They'd apparently had a few of those.

Given everything she now felt, Louis actually seemed quite keen on this girl. If she didn't know any better, she'd have even thought he might have had a little crush on her. But, how was that possible if he was utterly enamored with...another girl?

The girl was still smirking, rather purposely, at Louis as she walked directly up to him. He'd been standing there with his arms crossed and didn't budge when she approached him, the cigarette held out to his face. "You just have to ask nicely."

A funny smile played at Louis' face; neither of them broke eye contact as she stood mere inches from his face; their noses practically touching. He finally laughed and slowly took the cigarette out of her hand, but said nothing. She smiled as well, and when she actually smiled instead of smirked, she was even prettier than before. Whatever was happening here, Dominique was more confused than ever.

The girl started to laugh as she backed off of him and took her own cigarette out. She waited for Louis to light his before he offered to do hers. "And here I thought I'd seen the last of you."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I want certain parts of you to leave," she mumbled as Louis handed her back her cigarette.

"What parts are that?" her asked.

The girl didn't answer, instead she'd turned and threw Javier a look; one that made him laugh. She then made eye contact with Dominique for the first time, seemingly inspecting her as she took her first drag. As she pulled it out of her mouth, she asked, "Do I own you a cigarette, too?"

"I don't smoke."

The girl nodded approvingly, exhaling as she said it. "Good choice. Terrible habit." She turned back to Javier. "Shouldn't you be in Potions?"

"Shouldn't you?"

"You know I hate Potions," she muttered.

"Well, I'm giving these two the tour," Javier said, gesturing around the room as if to indicate that this was their current stop.

"Showing them only the finest of what Beauxbatons has to offer," she joked, gesturing around the dingy room. "Way to impress our guests." She found her gaze landing on Dominique once more, her brow furrowing. "Are you the sister? I heard you were here." She looked back at Louis for confirmation; he was already slowly nodding.

"Dominique," said Javier, pointing to her, "This is Jules. She's a friend of mine." He looked back to Jules. "That's Dominique."

Dominique threw her a pinched smile, still not sure what to make of her. Jules, in turn, nodded and said, "I've read about you in the papers."

She sighed. "I'm sure you did."

Jules walked back over to lean directly up next to where Louis currently was, leaving no space between them. "So, why are you still here? Why is she here?"

"DiSilva broke us," Louis said as he took a drag. "And he's supposed to fix us."

"He broke both of you?" she asked, glancing back to Dominique before landing on Javier. "Of course he did."

"Bound to happen sometime," Javier offered. "But, we're heading to see him in about," he checked his watch, "ten minutes." He forced a pained smile. "I get to spend my morning and my afternoon with him."

"I swear, Javi," Jules said, blowing smoke at him, "sometimes I think you're his pet. He's always making you do so much extra shit."

"Comes with the territory," he muttered, though he didn't disagree with her. At that Louis stood and put out his cigarette, glancing over the group of them.

"I'm going to use the loo before we head in with DiSilva. Merlin knows he's going to keep us for hours."

"Is he really?" Dominique asked, watching as Louis headed toward the door. Javier was already nodding, just as her brother added, "Yeah. If you need to go, I recommend doing it now because he's not going to let you leave."

Why was this sounding like a prison sentence? She didn't have to go, so she didn't follow him; she watched Javier yell to ask if Louis even remembered where he was going, but he didn't answer. She glanced back at the two remaining smokers and suddenly wished she had followed after Louis just to escape this dingy room with these people she didn't know. It was too late now.

"So, is it just you DiSilva's called in to observe?" Jules asked, rounding on Javier the second Louis had gone. "Or will _other people_ ," she let that word in particular hang in the air for a moment, as if she were referring to someone specific, "be there as well?"

He immediately threw her a funny smirk, as if the two were clearly in on something Dominique wasn't privy to. " _She_ won't be there. Just me today. I'm sure DiSilva will bring her and the rest of them around eventually."

Jules made a face. "Be sure to let me know when that day is so I know when to avoid _him_." She let her eyes flick over in Dominique's direction as if to see if she was watching. Dominique, in turn, made herself look busy inspecting the grimy walls, as if she couldn't be bothered to pay them any mind.

"I thought you were already trying to avoid him?" Javier challenged in a quiet voice. "I seem to remember you being happy he was leaving because you wouldn't have to—"

"Can we not talk about this now?" she said in a low whisper. "Not when she's..."

Dominique felt eyes on her; she definitely felt as if she were intruding on a private conversation now. Despite being well aware they were clearly talking about Louis, she wasn't particularly interested in hearing the details. She really should have gone with him to find a bathroom.

"She already knows we're talking about him," Javier said. "She doesn't care. She's alright. The papers were wrong about her just as they were with Louis."

They were both staring at her now, which caused Dominique to hold their gazes in a rather terse sort of way. She decided then to finally say, "I don't even know what the papers said, but I'm sure they were wrong."

"They just painted Louis and your whole family out to be rather perfect," Javier offered. "Annoyingly so."

"Very annoyingly so," Jules offered, staring at Dominique. "They made all of you out to be these clean-cut, perfect human beings that everyone should strive to be like." She pulled a face, even going so far as to stick out her tongue.

"They really did," Javier agreed. "Louis was the dashing genius who got away, and you were his effervescent and beautiful sister."

"The papers are full of shit," Dominique muttered, "I've never been effervescent a day in my life, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Javier grinned at her. "And I can see that now." He pointed to her head, insinuating that he'd checked inside. "I could read everything off Louis, too, once I got to know him, but it was hard not to think that at first when the papers were shoving it down our throats. I'd honestly believed that Louis was going to be this pompous little prince who thought he was better than everyone."

"Turns out he doesn't think he's better than everyone," Jules corrected. "But he sure as hell thinks Amalie Bellamy is."

Javier's eyes flashed wide for only a brief moment, and he certainly didn't seem to disagree with her. He glanced back at Dominique then, a funny look on his face. "What do you think of your brother's interest Amalie?"

She thought that it was weird as fuck and didn't makes any sense, but that didn't seem like a fair question coming from him. She barely knew these people, so she wasn't going to unload her thoughts and concerns onto them. At the same time, he could read her mind and pluck out all of these thoughts anyway. She couldn't hide what she thought if she wanted to. He was probably doing it right now.

"Just because I can read your mind, doesn't mean I do," Javier suddenly said.

She stared at him. "But, you clearly just did."

"Don't listen to him," Jules said, turning away. "He does it all the time."

"I don't always try to, but I also can't help what I see," Javier said. "That's the difference between studying Legilimency and being born as one. They can turn it on when they want to; I can't always control what I read off people." He suddenly checked his watch and put out his cigarette. "We need to get moving to see DiSilva. We can collect Louis on the way."

Dominique trailed after him, with Jules just after her, seeing as she was apparently leaving as well. As they passed through the next greenhouse, Dominique caught up to Javier and kept pace with him. "So, seeing as you're the naturally gifted one around here, can you tell if what's going on inside me and Louis' heads can be fixed?"

He looked over at her, his face perplexed. "Honestly, I have no idea. What's happened to you is beyond what I've even practiced. I study what I see, I've never tried to fix or change anything. All I can do is read you and see that you're both a fucking mess."

"Subtle, Javi," said Jules.

"What does that mean?" Dominique asked, noticing that her brother had appeared once they reached the next greenhouse, apparently on his way back to find them. "How am I a mess?"

"I'm not trying to be rude," Javier continued, nodding for Louis to join them on their trek back up to the palace. "What I meant is that when I go into the average person's head, it's more or less a straight line that tells a story. I can see what they're thinking, and I can dig deeper thoughts out if I really want to search." He glanced over at her. "When I go into yours—or Louis'—it's this wild, out of control spiral that's almost impossible to follow."

"That sounds promising," Louis muttered.

"That just made you significantly more interesting," Jules said to Louis, which caused him to do nothing more than throw her a rather playful sort of disparaging look.

"I've heard about it, but you don't see it often," Javier continued. "DiSilva's head's like that, but he's only let me in once or twice. He's a master at Occlumency, so he keeps people out." He looked over at Louis. "But given how you read from the first time I met you compared to now…" He left out a low whistle. "It's a fucking trip."

Louis did not seem excited to hear that, but Dominique was now simply feeling more and more confused with each passing minute. What the fuck was happening? She turned back to Javier. "And you said my head is reading the same way?"

He nodded.

"So, when you read my thoughts, what do you see?"

"I see what you're thinking," he said obviously. "Reading your mind and reading your thoughts are two different skill sets. I can acknowledge that your mind looks as if it's on fire, while also being able to see your random thoughts. Such as, that you're far more impressed with Beauxbatons than you thought you'd be—though you don't want to admit it. You also think he—" he pointed to Louis, " is only smoking in order to seem cooler."

"I am not!" Louis said quickly, causing Jules to start laughing. "It legitimately calms my nerves. DiSilva is a fucking nutter. You'll probably start smoking too after a week spent with him."

"I did take one year with him a few years back," Jules began to say, "and it does happen to be the year I started smoking. Perhaps that wasn't a coincidence."

Louis laughed a little at that, his attention clearly on her, which caused Javier to immediately slow down and let Dominique walk directly beside him. He then dropped his voice very low so that only she could hear him. "I also could read that you find the whole situation with a certain girl and how a certain person reacts to her very bizarre, which is what we all think." He paused. "Including that very girl."

Dominique immediately turned to look at him. "Amalie?"

Javier immediately looked over his shoulder to Louis, though settled his gaze just as quickly back on her. "Don't say her name around your brother if you can help it." With that, he straightened back up and took to the stairs two at a time.

She watched him for a moment, not wanting him to run off. She wanted to hear more about the bizarre behavior he clearly was aware of and what exactly he had to say about it, but the moment had since passed. He was well ahead, holding open the door for them to enter the deserted corridor.

Or so she thought it was deserted, but ten seconds after emerging from the stairwell, a loud, shrill sounding voice immediately barked, "And why are we in the corridors during class?"

When Dominique turned, she found a stout looking woman with an angry face approaching. "Miss Caron? Mr. Escolera?" Her eyes quickly swept over Louis and Dominique, though she didn't seem to know what to make of them. "Is there a reason you're not in your classes?"

"I'm taking them to see Professor DiSilva, Madame Devereux," said Javier immediately, smiling quickly. "Madame Maxime arranged it. Professor DiSilva requested my presence."

The Devereux woman seemed to accept that as an answer from him, but turned her angry gaze on to Jules. "And your excuse, Miss Caron?"

She shrugged. "I could make something up, Madame, but I feel as if we've been through this too many times to lie to each other. I just don't like Potions."

"Juliette Caron," she said. "This is the third time this month I've caught you cutting classes. If you're so bored with Potions, you're welcome to come spend the hour in my office."

"Could I, really?" she asked, pretending to be excited by the prospect, though the woman was already tugging her away by the arm, leading her off and now questioning whether or not she smelled of cigarette smoke. Jules managed to throw the group of them a funny sort smile, as if this was simply just another day for her. Javier waved goodbye.

Dominique turned toward her brother. "You're making all sorts of friends."

He shrugged. "I'm a friendly person."

It was then that Javier insisted then that they had to go, leading them down another corridor and toward a room that resided at the furthest end of the hallway. There was a large window at the end that was flooding the corridor with light, but as soon as Javier opened the large door, they were hit with a startlingly dark room. If there were windows, they were currently obscured by heavy curtains; firelight from mounted torches bounced off all the walls and surfaces.

There were tables and chairs scattered throughout; stools pushed up against the front of the room, where another large desk also resided. There were books and funny sorts of gadgets that Dominique couldn't even begin to understand lining bookcases and shelves, but otherwise, the room was scarcely filled. It reminded her of the dungeons at Hogwarts and was probably the most familiar feeling place she'd been in since arriving here.

"He likes it dark," Javier explained as he watched her and Louis scan the room. "Helps him focus. You'll get used to it."

"Sort of reminds me of Hogwarts," Louis offered, looking over at Dominique. "Down in the dungeons."

She had started to nod, which immediately prompted Javier to laugh a little. "You have dungeons that you actively spend time in?" He was shaking his head. "Seems the rumors about Hogwarts are true. Dark and gloomy and filled with dungeons."

"We're not filled with dungeons," Dominique said. "We have some."

"And it can be dark in places," Louis said, "but I've never felt it was ever gloomy. It's comfortable."

Dominique nodded, right as a door on the other side of the room—one that Dominique only then noticed—opened to reveal the unmistakable figure of DiSilva. He said nothing for a long moment; he only stood there looking at them. When he finally spoke, his voice was more clipped than she remembered from that day before.

"Mr. Escolera, I'd hoped you would have gotten them settled already. But it seems a quick cigarette was deemed more important."

"Come on, then," Javier mumbled, ushering them into the room. He went to retrieve stools from the front and carried them to a spot in the center of a makeshift sort of circle. Dominique and Louis found themselves exchanging strange looks. She felt awkward at being forced to sit in the middle of this circle, and she could sense Louis felt the same. But really, what else were their options?

Javier gestured for them to sit before he went to fetch a quill and a notebook. Across the room, DiSilva was now flipping through a large text, which he proceeded to do for a good several minutes after Louis and Dominique took their seats. All the two of them could do was shoot awkward glances at each as Javier—who up until that point had been chatty and friendly—now sat silently over his notebook, scribbling in a quick sort of way. Was anyone going to tell them what was happening?

Ten minutes had passed before DiSilva finally closed his book and looked at both of them. He first approached Louis and stared into his eyes, not as if he were a human being, but rather a curious object he'd discovered. He said nothing; he did nothing other than stare. Louis sat rather stone faced, which Dominique had to give him credit for. She was fidgeting just watching.

DiSilva turned his gaze onto her, which did make her awkwardly shift in her chair. There was something off about him that she couldn't place, and the worst part was that she knew he could see everything she was thinking. He knew he was making her uncomfortable and he simply didn't care.

"Mr. Escolera," he said finally, after staring at her and Louis for far too many uncomfortable minutes. "Are you seeing any of this?"

"Yes, sir," Javier said, still scribbling rapidly into his notebook.

"You'll present your notes to me once we've concluded today," DiSilva said, backing up from she and Louis to return to his desk. As soon as he'd stepped away, she caught Louis' eye and pulled a face. He immediately returned it with an expression that merely said, "Told you he was a nutter."

"Not much has changed since yesterday," DiSilva said finally, after another ten minutes of silence in which Javier continued to write and DiSilva continued to flip between watching them and checking his textbooks. "The damage thus far is consistent with my original diagnosis. Though I still feel as if there is more to be discovered. It hasn't had the time to be awakened."

Awakened? He was making it seem as if there were sleeping beasts in their heads now. What did that mean?

"It means," he said, his eyes narrowing on Dominique, "That you need to be alert to changes in your life that seem abrupt. A food you once loved now disgusting you, for example. Or the opposite." He looked at Louis. "Or, yes. Losing your ability to process information as you once did. I can see your concern about that."

"I just want to know if it can be reversed," Louis said, quietly. "I want to know will we go back to normal?"

DiSilva stared at him; his face wasn't reassuring. "That's still to be determined."

"And if it can't?" Dominique asked.

DiSilva stared at her. "Then it can't."

That wasn't reassuring. They sat there for another hour, and Dominique felt she could have clawed at the walls with how awkward this entire situation was. Javier did nothing more than take—what seemed like—hundreds of notes while DiSilva did nothing more than sit at his desk and stare at them, occasionally returning to his text or writing something down. That left her and Louis to sit there doing absolutely nothing. It was too strange to have a normal conversation, and even when they had tried to comment on something innocuous, like the temperature of the room, DiSilva had scolded them and asked for them to remain as quiet as possible. It had left them attempting to silently play their number guessing game, but other than one or two lucky guesses, neither of them could connect on the right number the way they used to.

After what felt like ages, DiSilva didn't even excuse them; he simply stood and left the room through the door he'd entered earlier. Dominique wondered if he was coming back, but at the same moment as the door snapped shut, Javier shut his notebook and smiled at the pair of them. "You're done."

"What the fuck was that?" Dominique asked once they'd left the classroom and were already a good floor away. She'd been afraid to say anything before that for fear of DiSilva reading her. She wasn't sure how far his reach went.

"That was exhausting, is what it was," Louis muttered, that also being the first time he'd spoken as well. He looked tired, as if the room had actually taken a toll on him. She wondered if she looked the same.

"It was certainly intense," Javier said, and it was then that Dominique realized that she had no idea where he was leading them. "But believe it or not, I feel DiSilva got a good feel for what he was looking for."

"Which is what?" Dominique asked, just as they came to a large door that Javier was now waving his wand at. As soon as he had, it opened and immediately revealed the outdoors.

"It's hard to explain," Javier offered. "And to be honest, I couldn't explain it properly if I knew. I can't read him—he's too good at keeping people out—but I can feel his shifts in mood. He seemed satisfied when he left, that much I knew." He shook his head. "Your minds...I've never seen anything like it."

"You keep trying to make that sound as if it's a good thing," said Louis.

"It is for the final paper I need to write," Javier joked once they stepped outside. The sunlight and fresh air was immediately invigorating to Dominique, and she took a moment to soak it up. It was exactly what she needed after that shit show.

"I always have to come outside after class with him," Javier said, gesturing for them to follow him. "It does help quite a bit." He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his cigarettes, immediately pulling one out and handing it to Louis before pulling another for himself. "I'm convinced I started smoking because of him. It's a routine I have. Deal with him, come outside, have a cigarette, sometimes cry a little." He shrugged. "It can break you if you're not careful."

He gestured up ahead then. "There's a spot near the stadium where we can hide for a bit. Then I'll get you back."

"No rush," Louis said. "Timmy can wait."

Dominique was only half listening now because, at that moment, she focused intently on the massive white structure that was now before them. The stadium was roughly the size of a professional Quidditch stadium back home, and at least double the size of the one at Hogwarts. It was entirely made of white stone, with intricate and detailed architecture topping the structure's many columns and pillars. Eight differently colored flags were flying above the stadium, and she could have sworn she noticed it glittering in what sunlight there was.

There was a large fountain out in front with three figures—statues of all three Quidditch rings—situated directly in the center. Water was spraying all around them.

Javier and Louis had disappeared back around some corner, though Dominique chose to stay back by the entrance and examine some of the details of the fountain. It wasn't until she bothered to really look that she saw some sort of creatures—similar to the small nymphs from inside the Dining Chamber—that were flying around on—what appeared to be—small brooms. She leaned in further to investigate more. They looked as if they were splashing around and playing their own version of Quidditch with the fountain's stone rings.

"Cool, huh?" Louis said once they rejoined her and he noticed her watching. "This was one of the first places I came to see when I got the chance."

"The Quidditch stadium?"

"No, the fountain," he said, gesturing to the little nymphs flying around inside. Her face must have been confused as to why he cared, because he immediately added, "Maxius Clemens got the inspiration for the Nymph Chasers' name from this fountain." He pointed at the little Quidditch players. "He's said he was staring into one day when he was in school here and found himself laughing at the little nymph Chasers flying about. He liked it and named his band after them."

"Huh," Dominique said, finding that to be a rather interesting fact. She'd have to tell Sarah she'd seen this.

"You probably want to go inside," Louis said, glancing up at the stadium.

"Can we?" she asked, as both of their eyes landed on Javier. He shrugged as if to say, " _why not?_ " though he did quickly mention that he knew nothing about Quidditch and would be rather useless inside.

"I'm sure Nic can find her way around," Louis said as Javier took them through the front entrance, which was a large stone archway with the images of two faceless, flying wizards on broomsticks carved into the sides. Just as with the school, everything about Beauxbatons seemed to be overly detailed.

As they walked along a corridor that led toward the pitch, Dominique glanced at the walls to see large, poster sized photographs of famous Quidditch faces. She had to assume they were all alumni, seeing as they were all young looking in their photos—no older than teenagers—and all wearing uniforms that she had to assume were that of the school's teams. She stared at each and one, seeing notable athletes and famous faces that she'd followed since she was younger. As she reached the end of the corridor, she stopped on one and felt her face involuntarily frown.

Marco Sabatino.

"Not much of a fan, huh?" Javier asked, tapping Sabatino's poster as he passed. "All I know about him is that he missed that little golden ball thing he was apparently supposed to catch at the World Cup and people around here wouldn't even talk about it after it happened. That happened in England, didn't it? You two make it there?"

"We did," Louis said, grabbing Dominique by the elbow and pulling her away from the poster that she was still staring rather angrily at. "I actually won a lot of money off of that match."

Dominique ignored Louis' story about his stupid bet that paid off, having heard it entirely too many times. She was busy checking out the rest of the posters before finally noticing the opening that led down onto the pitch. There was a large gate that clearly kept anyone who wasn't supposed to be there off of the pitch, but it was currently wide open.

Javier nodded toward it. "I was going to walk you up into the stands, but we may as well get the best view possible." He jogged ahead and pushed the gate open all of the way. "Now, I don't even know if we're allowed to be down here, since it's usually just for the teams, but…" He shrugged. "I'll pull the champion card. With two of us here, that's got to count for something."

Dominique stepped past him and immediately felt completely awestruck once she took in the size of their pitch. It was so much larger than Hogwarts, which was to be expected since Beauxbatons was a much larger school. The seating seemed to be double what she was used to; it made her realize these Beauxbatons' kids were playing to double the kinds of crowds she was used to. It felt like a professional stadium.

"So, there's the grass," Javier continued in a very bored manner. "There's the seats. Those things are rings, I assume?" He shrugged, gesturing out toward a team that was currently out there practicing. "You've got some brooms over there and some ball things. I can't say for sure."

Dominique chose to step past him and let her trainers stand on the grass, still rather overwhelmed by how large everything felt. She was so used to her pitch at Hogwarts, which seemed small by comparison.

Across the pitch then, a boy—or rather, a man because there certainly wasn't anything boyish about him—broke apart from the group he'd been standing with and began walking toward them. Dominique observed that he was very tall, very muscular, and sort of handsome—but not in a pretty boy sort of way. He looked seasoned and scruffy; his nose had a bump in it that had clearly come from being broken once or twice and he had a scar over his eyebrow.

"What's going on?" the man-boy asked, addressing Javier specifically. "You need something, Escolera?"

"No, Theo, I don't," Javier said, still sounding bored. "I'm only giving these two a tour of the Quidditch stadium. That's allowed, right?"

"Not usually from the pitch. We're practicing right now," said this Theo character, looking as if he didn't appreciate the visitors. "Just be quick and don't be a distraction, would you?" With that he gave Louis a polite nod and did the same to Dominique, though he did a double take on her and suddenly smiled a little.

"Well, only be a few minutes," Javier said, though Theo was now waving him off as if it wasn't a big deal.

"You can't take a minute," Theo said, his gaze now on her. "Do either of you play Quidditch, or are you only looking around?"

Louis did nothing more than point at Dominique, and she found herself smiling as she nodded her head. "I play. I have for years."

"Yeah?" he asked, smiling now. The tough act from before was completely gone. "Nice. I'm Theo. I'm captain of my house team. We're the green one." He pointed to a nearby banner that was hanging up before he reached out his hand to shake hers.

She shook his hand and continued to smile. "I'm Dominique."

"Yeah, I know," he said, still shaking her hand. "I've read the papers. You're much prettier in person."

"Oh, here we go," Louis mumbled, now stepping away to apparently explore the vast interior of the arena. She could hear Javier chuckle.

She ignored them both and found herself blushing a little, not even entirely sure why the comment hadn't bothered her as it always had in the past. "Um, thanks." She finally let go of his hand. "What position do you play?"

"Keeper. You?"

"Seeker."

"You know, I think I'd read that, too," he said. "What kind of broom are you on?"

"A Firebolt Max 2800. How about you?"

"A LightSpeed 2.0."

Her jaw dropped. The LightSpeed was so new that only one hundred and fifty had even been released, and they'd all gone almost exclusively to professional players. "How did you manage to get a LightSpeed?"

He seemed keen to suddenly have her so interested. "I kind of know some people." He looked over his shoulder, where the rest of his team had dispersed to stretch and get water since he was clearly preoccupied. "Would you like to see it?'

Did she? She wanted to jump on it and fly it home to England. She wanted to curse him to the ground and do a memory charm so he'd forget he'd ever even owned one. If he knew people, he could get a new one. But of course she did none of those things and instead just nodded enthusiastically.

He laughed, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Yeah, absolutely," he said. "I'll go and grab…" He suddenly stopped and pointed at her. "Were you at the Trials this summer?"

"I was," she said. "Were you? I assume you're old enough since you're…" She stammered. "You're quite big. That is to say, you're...you're really tall." She looked him up and down. "Very tall."

"I am, I guess," he said, running a hand through his hair. "And I was at the Trials but I guess we must have missed each other, which is a shame. But I'm hoping to get invited back this summer. I did well while I was there."

"Did you? I did alright. I got a seven."

"I got an eight."

"Wow, an eight was top level. You should be really—"

"Didn't your boyfriend get a nine?" Louis called over all of the sudden, reminding Dominique that he was even there. When she turned around to stare at him, he was smirking at her.

"Wow," said Theo, looking both impressed and surprised to hear that. "That's...that's really...What, um, what position does he play?"

"He's a Beater," Louis offered. "Big guy like you, but not quite as big. But! He swings a bat really hard. Hard enough to break skulls, I reckon. He played in that final premier match you all had there." He made a point to look at Dominique. "That was a big deal, wasn't it?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes in her brother's general direction, just as she heard Theo say, "It was a big deal. He must be really good." When she turned to now offer him an awkward smile, he was looking a little crestfallen before adding. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Um, hold on here and I'll show you my broom."

"He'll show you his broom alright," Louis muttered as she then roundabout faced her brother. He was watching Theo walk away before looking back over to her. "What the fuck was that? I've never seen you act like that before."

"Act like what? I was talking to him."

"Seemed rather flirty," Louis said. "Since when do you flirt? You pick that up off me, as well?"

"I was not," she said. "And anyway, he was just being friendly."

"He would like to sleep with you," Javier said blankly. "I could read that from here"

Louis managed to both groan and laugh at the same time. "He wasn't even being subtle."

"Ok, stop," Dominique said, noticing that Theo had stopped to talk to someone on his team, both of them glancing over in this direction. "I can take care of myself, thanks. No need for the dumb protective brother thing."

"Oh, did you think I did that for you?" he asked, sounding amused. "No, see, under normal circumstances, I wouldn't care whose broom you wanted to ride. No, see, that right there? That was me looking out for my boy, Jack."

"Jack and I aren't together," she said as Theo—broom in hand—was now approaching. "I'm—"

She stopped speaking once she was greeted with a perfectly amazing LightSpeed for her to now examine. She took it if he'd just handed her a delicate piece of glass. The handle was so shiny and lightweight. It was supposed to be one of the fastest brooms on the market. Shame it was being wasted on a Keeper. Honestly, what was he going to do with a speed broom?

She inspected it, asking him a few questions while purposely avoiding excess smiling or laughing since she knew that her brother was watching and judging her. Not that it mattered now anyway. Theo seemed to have pulled back after hearing she had a boyfriend, while she had Jack back in her head. It was strictly Quidditch now, which was a comfortable place for her to be. Once she handed it back to him, she rounded back on her brother with an expression as if to say, " _See? Perfectly innocent._ "

"It's response time can't be beat," Theo said, as he set the broom on the ground and put his hand over top of it. With milliseconds, he'd mumbled "Up" and the broom shot lightning fast into his hand for him to grip. He then held it out for her. "You can give it a ride if you want. I don't mind."

Was he serious? "Really?"

He smiled and nodded, setting it down on the ground to allow her to approach it.

She found herself smiling rather ecstatically. She glanced back at Louis and Javier, both of them watching her. "We've got time, right?"

Javier nodded as Louis said, "Even if we didn't, would it stop you?"

She actually let out a noise that resembled a squee, which she wasn't even aware she was capable of making. She walked straight over to the sleek, sophisticated broom and stepped beside it. She was fairly certain that the last time she'd been this excited to ride a broom, it had been the first one she'd ever received. She reached her hand over the broom, knowing it would immediately come up into her grip as soon as she said, "Up."

But nothing happened. She stared at it and said, "Up," again, though a little louder. Still nothing; it didn't even so much as wiggle in the grass below. Her brow furrowed. Strange. Perhaps this model had done something to prevent it from being able to snap into a different rider's hand. She bent over and picked it up, mounting it as she always would and gripping the handle tightly.

She pushed herself up off the ground and the broom jerked awkwardly forward, but also at an incredibly quick pace. It was startling, and she found herself holding on for dear life. Had she not spent the better part of a decade on a broom, she felt she may have flown straight off. Thankfully, her muscle memory was keeping her from doing something stupid.

She did one lap around the stadium, not even getting the chance to take in the proper views or enjoy it since everything about the ride was jerky and uncomfortable. She landed as soon as she could and even found that her landing had been awkward and a little painful. The moment she dismounted, she immediately let the broom drop to the ground, grabbing her wrist to rub it because it—for some reason—now hurt.

"You have been on a broom before?" Theo asked, now staring at her curiously.

"Yes, thousands of times," she said, now finding that he wasn't so cute after all. "I live on my broom. That broom there is rubbish."

Theo now seemed rather offended. "I've found it to be the best broom I've ever owned."

Javier and Louis had walked over to join the conversation, her brother's eyes on the broom as it lay on the ground. "You alright? You looked like shit out there."

"Because the broom is rubbish!" she said, defensively. "Can't fly well on a bad broom!"

"It's really not," said Theo. "Everyone's always saying how it's the smoothest ride they've ever had."

"Everyone's lying to you," Dominique said matter-of-factly. "I'd take my Firebolt any day over that."

"Hey, Nic," said Louis, though she chose to ignore him since Theo was now arguing how Firebolts were going to be an obsolete style soon enough and that professional Quidditch was going to start favoring the LightSpeed.

"I mean, not everything requires an upgrade just because it's the newest model," she harped on, feeling ready to go to battle with this guy over broom preferences. "To me that one feels—"

"Nic!" Louis snapped, clearly wanting her attention.

"What?" she snapped back, completely annoyed that he couldn't wait one bloody second before making some stupid comment about how she apparently giving this boy googly eyes or whatever rubbish he had to say.

Louis was standing beside Theo's broom, his hand outstretched over it. He was looking at her dead in the eyes before he said, "Up."

The broom flew immediately into his hand. She could hear the thwack of the wood against his palm as clear as day. He also didn't look surprised in the least at it happening; he just stared at her.

Dominique felt as if someone had just thrown her into an ice bath. No, actually—it felt as if someone was trying to drown her in an ice bath. She felt frozen to the spot and every part of her body was suddenly pins and needles. Louis had never once, not in his entire life, been able to make that happen. He'd tried for ages as a child, simply because he wasn't used to not being able to do everything and anything perfectly, but flying had never been in the cards for him. The broom would never rise for him and the few times he had gotten one off the ground, he'd usually fall and crash moments later.

But now he was standing there holding it comfortably. The broom had risen without question. Neither of them even had to say it because it was obvious what the other was thinking.

"No," she finally said, shaking her head. "No, it can't…"

"You mind?" Louis asked Theo, now going to mount the broom. "I won't take it far. I'd be afraid to."

"Can you fly?"

"That's an excellent question," Louis said, pushing himself up off the ground and effortlessly flying up about ten feet. He was struggling with balance and control, but there was a natural tendency there that one either had or didn't. It was what separated the fliers from the quitters during their first year flying classes. Louis had quit after the first day.

"No," Dominique said softly, the cold feeling that had overtaken her before now transitioning into something far more warm. It hadn't been the broom. The broom had nothing to do with it. It had been her. That entire terrible run had been her.


	6. History Lesson

Dominique hadn't had much to say for the rest of the evening. Javier had taken them back up to the palace for dinner, which had unfortunately been exceptionally crowded and full of people watching her like some sort of curious new exhibit. Louis was kind enough to play defense for her and keep most of them at bay; she'd eaten rather quickly before both she and Louis made a quick exit toward the bus outside. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and be alone. She would have rather done that at home or back at Hogwarts, but that wasn't an option right now.

"For what it's worth," Louis had said while they walked back to the bus after dinner. "I understand."

"I know you do," she said, happy that was the only thing he said about it. There were no hopeful promises of them being set back right and not to worry; there was no real deep discussion of how they'd both lost part of what made them who they were. They'd gotten back to the bus and—just as they would many nights at home—went to their separate rooms without much interaction.

She'd slept terribly again, even despite having a bed to sleep in. It wasn't until halfway through the night that she realized she was dreaming—or something of that nature. They were strange visions of colors, shapes, sounds, and occasionally faces. They were very nerve-wracking and rather stressful. She would wake restlessly, try to fall straight back to sleep, but instead be reminded of all the chaos in her life and find herself staring straight up at the ceiling until she eventually would fall back asleep and do it all over again.

In the morning, after slowly getting themselves up and moving, Timmith informed them that their daily lessons would be postponed. "Professor DiSilva has asked to see you both now," he told them. "His advanced Legilimency class meets at nine and he'd like you to visit with them."

"Wait, the whole class?" Louis said brightly, smiling as he immediately turned and disappeared back into his room. He'd left Timmith and her standing there rather curiously, though naturally Timmith had to answer affirmatively that, yes, the entire class would be there. He didn't seem to realize that Louis had been actually pleasantly surprised by the news, not actually seeking an answer to that question. This was only driven home once he emerged minutes later in much nicer clothes than what he'd been lying around in moments earlier; his hair was also brushed much neater.

After a quick breakfast up at the palace, which again was crowded and full of people staring, Timmith led them both upstairs to the same room they'd visited the day before. He promptly opened the door, where they found themselves now greeted by a handful of students meandering around. DiSilva was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll see you after lunch," Timmith said, nodding at the pair of them and beckoning for them to continue into the room on their own. Louis led the way, though he seemed a little timid and slow moving. It wasn't until Dominique got a good look at the crowd that was waiting for them that she suddenly understood why.

Four girls and two boys—Javier among them—were watching them; the boys were sitting beside each other on stools and the girls were all standing, chatting around a single stool. Javier threw them a wave from his spot, and there was a tepid sort of politeness from the others. All but one, that is. One single girl looked beyond annoyed. Dominique recognized her immediately.

It was the first time she'd actually seen Amalie in person, and she looked exactly as she did in her photographs. She seemed very tidy and put together—not a single detail of her uniform looked out of place of wrinkled. She had very blonde, shoulder-length hair and round eyes; she did seem a bit taller than Dominique had pegged her for.

She also—Dominique couldn't help but think this—didn't seem like Louis' type. She knew him well enough to know he'd always been attracted to pretty brunettes, particularly ones with nice smiles. He was a sucker for them. Sarah, Natalie, the handful of other girls he dated briefly at Hogwarts when he was younger—they'd all been pretty brunettes with nice, friendly smiles. Amalie was as blonde as Dominique was; while she could have had a nice smile, it was certainly hard to tell with the way she was currently glowering and avoiding their gazes.

Louis suddenly sighed rather deeply; a dopey smile now on his face. "Hi, Amalie."

She said nothing. She didn't even look at him. Her friend beside her glanced from her to him, trying hard not to let the awkwardness wash over her. Dominique would have been embarrassed for him if it was all so fucking strange.

She chose then to look away and meet Javier's eyes, throwing him a lazy wave and clearly looking for cues as to what she should be doing or where she should be standing. Where was DiSilva?

"He'll be here soon," Javier said. "We can't be late, but he can."

She forced a lukewarm smile, knowing he'd just read her mind. But that was apparently expected in this class. Were all of the people here capable of reading her thoughts? The impression she'd gotten was that Javier was the only natural in the group; the rest were in training and learning the skills. But they all probably could if this was the advanced class. That was rather unsettling.

"You've decided to stay for a bit," said one of the other girls, addressing Louis in a good-natured sort of way.

"I have," Louis said, straightening up. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He seemed rather twitchy and somewhat bouncy. The rest of the room was strangely quiet.

"Well, then," Javier said, stepping off his stool to walk to the side of the room. It was there that there were extra chairs, two of which he was now retrieving and carrying toward the front of the room. He set them down beside her and Louis, clearly having brought them over for them to sit on. He turned to address his classmates. "Anyway, you all know DiSilva is going to jump right in, so I'll go ahead and do the introductions." He pointed to Louis. "You all know who he is," he looked over at Amalie, "some more than others."

She didn't even look up from the notebook she was now writing in, but her eyebrows did jump in an annoyed sort of way.

He then gestured to Dominique. "This is his sister, Dominique. They're twins. They're English. They're here because the second task did something to their brains and now DiSilva's trying to set them right again before they go home in a few days. It's a fascinating situation, especially if you happened to get a before-and-after look at Louis' head to see the difference."

He suddenly started pointing around the room, stopping first on the other boy. "Anyway, that's Peter. Beside him, that's Margaritte. That's Esme. That's Giabella, and of course, the one the only…"

Amalie finally looked up and glared at him.

He was already laughing. "That would be Amalie." He turned to Dominique. "Maybe you've heard of her?"

Louis was nodding for some stupid reason, though Dominique did nothing more than let her eyes go a bit wide for a moment to acknowledge that she certainly had.

"She's _really_ excited you both are here," Javier continued, hiding his laughter. "Really excited. If you could only see what was on her mind—"

"Apparently, my Occlumency is failing me right now if I'm that easy to read," Amalie muttered, speaking for the first time.

"You really should work on that," Javier quipped. "Exams are in a few weeks and that's basic stuff. I'm not even trying that hard to get in."

"Stay out of my head, Javi."

"To be fair," said the one called Peter, "There's no real magic needed for that. Fairly certain we could pick that up off you by just looking at you."

Two of the other girls were nodding, just as Javier said, "And perhaps you've forgotten what class you're currently in, but getting in your head is the entire point. You can pull that shit in Charms, but not here." He turned back to Louis and Dominique. "Anyway, DiSilva's going to walk in here and have all of us attempt to poke around and see what we can see. It's going to last about two hours and you're going to hate every fucking second."

Dominique's face fell. Two hours? Was he serious? In a few minutes time, a bunch of random strangers were going to be able to poke around at her most private of thoughts and secrets. And for what? So that they could have more interesting exam paper topics after they got a glimpse into her fucked up brain? None of these people could help her or Louis. Even Javier had admitted this was beyond what he was capable of, and she'd gotten the impression he was the top of his class when it came to this mental magic stuff.

Javier suddenly started nodding. "All of that is true," he said, answering a question no one had asked. " But look at it this way, it's extra time DiSilva gets to work on you while we—" he gestured around to his classmates, "get to see things we've only read about in books."

Dominique threw a pinched look at Louis, but he didn't reciprocate. He was currently staring rather hopelessly at Amalie.

At that, the door to the room suddenly opened in a swift manner, and standing there, dressed in dark blue robes with his hair up, was DiSilva. He didn't move straight away; just stood in the door frame watching. Without another word, Javier moved very quickly back to his stool.

"This morning," DiSilva said brusquely, his robes flowing behind him as he walked straight to the front of the room. "We will be going straight to work."

The entire group of students had all sat up at attention and—in almost perfect unison—repeated "Yes, sir," back to him. He'd walked quickly over to his desk to pull out something—spectacles, it seemed—out of a drawer. He put them on his face and then immediately turned back to face the class. His eyes immediately on Amalie.

"Miss Bellamy, your anger needs to be checked right now; it will do nothing more than hinder you. I have told you this time and time again. You've already proven that you let too much emotional baggage cloud your abilities. Either let it go or leave this room and stop wasting my time."

"Yes, sir," Amalie said quietly, her gaze hitting the floor.

He turned to Peter. "Mr. Dupuis." He stared at him for a very long moment. "Stop. Clear your mind of it. I don't want to see it."

Dominique had no idea what he was asking him to stop doing, but Peter seemed to understand and immediately slumped his shoulders forward. "Yes, sir."

"Now," DiSilva continued, "I know you're all aware as to why we have these two guests in our class today and what's happened to them. I felt this would be an excellent opportunity for you as gifted students of the mind arts to explore an incredibly complex situation."

He turned to Dominique, though there was no pleasantness or much of anything in his expression. "You're beginning to see more and more differences between your former self and present. You're starting to see how it's affecting you."

Dominique didn't know whether to speak or not. Everyone in the room had a rather frozen sort of quality about them that was certainly off-putting. Still, she was aware that every single thought she was currently having was being read by all of these people; perhaps even the thoughts she wasn't conscious of were being plucked out. What was the point of not being forthright?

"I am."

He turned to look at Louis, though a very strange expression appeared on his face as he took him in. He even hunched over to look him straight in the eyes, causing Louis to blink and look suddenly startled, as if he'd just realized he was standing there.

"Why are your thoughts so obsessive?" DiSilva asked, turning then to look at Amalie briefly. "This is new."

Javier started to snicker, which caused Amalie to throw him an angry look that she was currently trying very hard to hide from DiSilva.

"Mr. Escolera, you seem to feel you understand something better than the rest of us," DiSilva said, swinging around on him. "Would you like to share your theory with everyone?"

The smile fell off of Javier's face. He shook his head. "Um, no, well, sir. I was just going to say, it's not new. At least, not since the second task, which you seem to be under the impression that it is."

DiSilva stared at him. "I've read Mr. Weasley at least thirty times since meeting him upon his arrival here, and I've never once sensed this level of obsession in his thoughts. If this isn't new or damage from the second task, how do you explain it?"

"Well, sir," Javier began to explain. "My theory is that—and I'm basing this off of incidents I've noticed outside of this room—but his obsessive thoughts are triggered. And up until this point, you've never been present with the trigger..."

DiSilva stared at Javier, watching as he slowly—almost hesitantly—pointed at Amalie. It caused Amalie to shrink into herself a bit, though DiSilva was now staring at her in a rather perplexed sort of way. He then swung around and stared at Louis, who was once again looking as if he were lost in thought and not at all paying attention to what was even being discussed. Dominique suspected a pack of wild hippogriffs could come storming through the room at any moment and he wouldn't even notice. He was simply staring at Amalie; smiling like a dope.

"So, you're saying…?" DiSilva began, though he never finished. He simply stared at Javier, who eventually started nodding.

"Yes, sir."

"And it occurred...?"

"That's what I believe, sir."

"Interesting…"

Dominique blinked. What the fuck was happening right now? Were they all just having some kind of mental conversation that she wasn't privy to? Was this how the next two hours were going to be? She had to stupidly sit there while these loonies mind-chatted with each other? Worse yet, her closest ally in the room was currently completely punch-drunk and off his head right now. This was awful.

"We'll discuss it later," DiSilva said to Javier, though he turned back to face both she and Louis at that moment. He gave Louis a rather aggravated once over before settling his gaze on Dominique. "You."

She stared at him. What about her?

"You can explain to me the differences you're noticing since you awoke."

"I…" she stammered, looking around the room at all the faces that were currently staring at her. "Do I have to?" She gestured to everyone. "Can't you all just look inside…?"

"The ability is stronger in some than in others," DiSilva said curtly. "It is also a general rule of thumb that we do not assume or take information when it can be willingly given and explained. Therefore…" He gestured for her to proceed.

That seemed like an odd rule, considering everyone had already been helping themselves to her thoughts. Still she straightened up and found herself staring at a point on the floor. "Alright..." she muttered, not feeling entirely reassured by the fact she was being given the opportunity to speak. "Well, I've noticed...,see, I'm a Quidditch player. I have been for years and it's not simply a hobby, it's my life. I'd like to pursue it professionally one day, but it seems as if my flying is now...off. I can barely handle a broom. Whereas before, I was a natural at it."

She looked out at all of the students. "I don't know if any of you fly, but those that do know that there are certain instincts and natural cues you can't just learn. You're born with them and it seems I've lost them." He pointed to her brother. "And he—the one who's never been able to fly—has found them. So, if I can't fly anymore, there goes everything."

DiSilva was nodding as the rest of the room observed her. He encouraged her to continue speaking, seeing as Louis apparently wasn't going to. She spoke about Louis' changed learning abilities and how she'd seemed to have gained them. How she'd never dreamed a day in her life before, but now she did, and in strange and weird details. Even little things, such as how she'd always loved melon before, but found herself repulsed by it at breakfast that morning.

"These are all things Louis was fond of or good at and now, I am," she finished, glancing over at her brother, who was still off in his own world.

DiSilva said nothing for a long moment; neither did anyone in the class. Some people were taking notes, though Dominique didn't know of what. Did they think her problems were going to end up on an exam somewhere?

"Miss Bellamy," DiSilva said abruptly, looking over at Amalie. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave class today."

Amalie seemed startled to hear that. It almost looked as if she was afraid she'd done—or thought—something wrong. "Sir?"

"Only for today," he said, staring at Louis. "I'll be sure to not have our guests visit during class time in the future." He turned to her. "But I cannot possibly be expected to work through any of the thoughts in this boy's head when they are currently all of you."

Everyone looked at her, which she clearly was not comfortable with. Her face turned red, though it went quickly from embarrassment to annoyance in seconds. She took a deep breath, resigned to accept that this was happening, and started to gather her things. After a minute or so, she made her way out of the room without so much as a glance at anyone else. Louis watched her go, now looking terribly sad.

"About how long would you say it takes, Mr. Escolera?"

"After that kind of exposure?" Javier said, glancing at his watch. "About twenty minutes to a half an hour, sir."

Dominique had never wished she could read minds more than in that moment, especially considering that she was one of two people in the room who couldn't. DiSilva, on the other hand, seemed inconvenienced; she did not have to be a mind reader to realize that he felt his time was being completely wasted.

He did seem to want to wait for...whatever it was that took a half an hour, and he took the opportunity to start reiterating to his students about what Dominique had said—the differences she had noticed—and now asking for reasons and theories as to why these changes had occurred. He told them to begin poking around and seeing that they could see. What were they finding? What were they feeling?

They'd all raised their hands and seemed to want to offer some sort of clever sounding answer in order to sound impressive and well-versed, but their answers all seemed overly complex and far-fetched. That is until Javier finally seemed to say what DiSilva wanted to hear, demonstrating yet again why he seemed to be the favorite student around here.

"They're twins," he said rather obviously, pointing his quill at them. "There are theories out there that they can possess their own set of unique magical qualities. I read a book not long ago about it. If I had to guess, whatever magic that existed between them before didn't react well with the magic you created for the task."

"Excellent observation, Mr. Escolera," DiSilva said before launching into a half an hour long lecture about his theory as to why he felt some deep rooted twin magic that he never bothered to calculate was the culprit behind the strange occurrence. The magic of twins and multiples, he would go on to say, was a fascinating subset of mental magic, one that everyone should take the time to research if given the opportunity. It was said that Muggles could even feel the strength of the magical pull between them, which Dominique could have sworn she'd heard before.

"Now," DiSilva said, turning back to look from Dominique to Louis. He stared at the latter of them for a very long moment, causing Louis to, and Dominique was happy to see it, squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. "Have you decided to join us today, Mr. Weasley."

Louis' eyebrow rose; in a rather empty tone, he muttered. "I'm here, aren't I?"

DiSilva ignored him and instead asked, "I'd like to take the time now to search and explore your minds, with your permission, of course. Permission in this room is crucial—I'd like my students to partake as well."

Dominique didn't know what to say. Permission? Did she have a choice? She was only here so that someone could go inside her head and straighten things out. Obviously they had permission since there was no other way around it.

"It can be an exhausting process," DiSilva continued once she and Louis had lamely agreed. "Try your best to stay relaxed."

What happened next—and for the remainder of the class—was unlike anything Dominique had ever known. She felt utterly exposed as everyone sat and stared, occasionally scribbling notes down in their books. It was as if she were a caged animal at the zoo and the spectators were truly getting their money's worth. Wilder still, she could almost feel them inside of her head at times in the form of a fuzziness that made things feel blank. When that happened, she suddenly began to feel exhausted and in need of a nap, as if they were draining the life out of her. The one called Giabella would eventually echo what Javier had said the day before—that she'd never in her life seen the inside of someone's head look the way theirs did, and here were two of them.

Roughly an hour later, and despite having done nothing but sit there getting mentally poked and prodded, Dominique felt exhausted. A bell rang to signal that it was time for class to be over, though Dominique wasn't even sure that meant she was done. Luckily for her, DiSilva said he had a group of fifth-years due who were in no way ready to handle what they were dealing with, so they were to be excused. He would see them later that afternoon for further evaluation.

"Wait, we have to go back?" Dominique said to Louis as they exited the class into a sea of Beauxbatons students who were coming and going. "I thought that was it for the day? I can't do anymore of that today!"

"You mean you didn't have fun getting the inside of your brain scraped for the last hour?" he asked, sounding as tired as she felt. "I'm seriously wishing I'd have taken up Occlumency at some point."

"Is it too late?"

"Maybe not for you, but it apparently is for me."

Javier walked by then, tapping Louis on the shoulder and grinning at the pair of them. "Well done, you two. I know that was likely awful. But I have to admit, that was probably one of the most interesting Legilimency classes I've ever had. You two have some serious shit going on up there. I could play for hours."

"Fuck off," Louis said.

"Sorry, I know it's not funny," he said, though he was smiling as he said it. "But I'll give you a break until this afternoon. DiSilva's got me coming by again. He liked my notes and wanted to discuss some—" He hesitated, but was very much inspecting Louis' face as he spoke, "—things with me before you two get there later."

Dominique caught his eye, and she immediately took the opportunity to think about how much she wanted to talk to him about all of the bizarre behavior her brother had been presenting lately. He knew something. Or at least he thought he did. She wanted to hear it, and she knew that it wasn't getting discussed when Louis was around.

Javier nodded a little, stepping back a few steps as he looked her in the eye. "I know you do. And soon enough." He grinned in a cheerful way. "But right now I've got Charms." He pointed down the hallway. "I'll see you later this afternoon, though. Get some rest."

Louis mumbled, "Yeah, rest. Right." He looked rather sleepily over at Dominique for a moment, though in an instant, his expression suddenly brightened tremendously. "What'd you think of Amalie?"

She avoided his eyes, instead focusing on the students in the corridor who were starting to clear out and disappear into their classes. What was there to say? She doesn't seem keen on you? She seems to want nothing to do with you? You can't seem to take a hint? You turn into a pathetic, love struck puppy when she's in front of you? Thank Merlin he couldn't read minds, because everything she thought, he didn't want to hear.

"She didn't...I mean, I have no real thoughts," she said, feeling she needed to tread lightly. "DiSilva chased her out pretty early on."

"Arsehole," Louis said, his face growing cold. "She didn't even do anything wrong. He's got it out for her." He smiled as he started to lead the way down the corridor. "She's absolutely amazing, though."

Dominique pulled a face he couldn't see as she followed after him. Seriously? Had she left love potion in her wake? That would be the only thing that could explain her brother looking and sounding as ridiculous as he did right now. He'd had more chemistry with every, single other person she'd seen him talking to since she'd arrived here. He had more chemistry with Timmith.

"Lou, have you stopped to ask yourself why you're—?"

"You're going to think I'm mental," he said, still grinning happily, "But I'm going to marry her."

She stopped in her tracks, which caused Louis to turn and look at her. When she did nothing but gawk at him as if he'd just said the dumbest thing she'd ever heard, he shrugged and said, "I told you you'd think I was mental."

Mental was putting it nicely. He was completely off his fucking head. This wasn't right. None of this was right. Something was wrong with him. Maybe Javier knew, maybe he didn't, but she was starting to have her own theories about why her normally grounded, cool, collected brother was sounding like a fucking goon.

She took a deep breath. "You barely know her."

His gaze hardened. "I do, too," he said once they reached the stairs and began descending them. "And I know how I feel. Nothing compares. Nothing. It has to be her. She's literally perfect."

"Why is she perfect? What's so perfect about her?"

"Because she is," she said plainly, as if that was an acceptable answer.

"Merlin's fucking beard, Louis," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Are you listening to yourself? You're going to marry her, but you can't answer one simple bloody question about why—"

"You know what, Nic?" he snapped, turning around on her with the sort of fire and anger she was not used to seeing from him. "Fuck off. Seriously, fuck off. Just because you can make sense of any of your fucking feelings doesn't mean the rest of us can't."

"But you're not making any sense!"

"Look, I'm not the broken one," he snapped again. "You are! You always have been!"

She blinked at that. That had been a bit of a verbal slap; one that she had not been anticipating. It took her a moment to even remember to breathe, and once she did, she suddenly swallowed rather hard.

"Sorry, but it's true," he muttered, turned to walk off without so much as a look back at her. She wasn't used to Louis yelling at her like that. That was also new. Yes, they'd had their moments of knock down drag outs over the years, but she was usually the one getting to that level of anger first; she usually pushed him to that point. And yes, she had been antagonistic to him, but barely. For her that had been a nothing comment. Louis was well used to brushing off her bitchy comments. He never flew off the handle straight away. It usually took a lot more to get him that angry.

She didn't immediately return to the bus, instead choosing to wander around the school for a bit before making her way into the nearby Dining Chamber. Though it was still a touch too early for lunch, she sat and watched the wood nymphs flying around and making vocal noises, clearly warming up for their lunch performance.

She hadn't really wanted to go anywhere else, though when the room had begun to fill up with students for lunch shortly after she'd arrived, she started to have a change of heart. She realized then that, for the first time, she was on her own at Beauxbatons since arriving here. People were looking at her, most of them passing to their own tables, though some dawdling and giving her second and third glances. She really was in no mood to speak to any of them, but it looked as if a few were thinking about trying to. She slumped down in her chair and avoided everyone's gazes.

"Excuse me," came one voice, that of a female.

Dominique took a heavy breath before she looked up. She was actually startled to recognize the girl staring back at her. Pretty, curled hair pulled back into a ponytail, she'd met her at the Quidditch Trails. She was the one Jack had been interested in; the one whose friend had swooped in when she'd gotten too drunk and ended up hooking up with him. She couldn't remember her name, but she thought it started with a—

"Vanessa," she said with an awkward smile, pointing to herself. "I don't know if you remember me, but we met at the Trials?"

Dominique was nodding slowly, putting on a polite smile. "Yeah, I remember. You're a Chaser, right?"

Vanessa was nodding, seemingly happy that she recognized her. "Right. You're a Seeker."

She let her nodding grow slower. She wasn't too sure of that anymore. She had once been a Seeker.

"I just saw you sitting over here and wanted to come and say hello," she said as another familiar looking face came and stood beside her, this one male. "Small world that we'd run into each other again."

"It is," Dominique said, smiling politely at the boy. She remembered him from the Trials—he was a Seeker and had been in her group at one point. He'd been average at best, though she seemed to remember him saying something nice to her about her skills.

"I don't know if you remember, Gabe?" Vanessa said, pointing to the boy, who confirmed her suspicions after reminding her he was a Seeker. Dominique learned quickly that the two were in the same house and on the same team. They were also apparently together, if not close to it, though neither of them stated that. Dominique could just tell by the way they were subtly touching and looking at each other.

"Have you gotten a look at our Quidditch stadium?" Gabe asked her. "I've heard it's bigger than the one your school has."

"It is," Dominique agreed, nodding once more. "It was really nice. I got to see one of your teams out there practicing. The green one?"

"Dark green or lighter green?"

She actually couldn't remember that. "The one that has some bloke called Theo on it."

"Dark green," they both said in unison, and there was definite distaste in both of their tones. Gabe immediately added, "If you got to meet Theo, then I'm sure he told you about his broom."

"It's all he talks about," Vanessa muttered. "His team is rather dominant lately. We all sort of hate them. They've got a big match this weekend if you're around. Just be sure to root for the ones in yellow."

"We really need them to win to help us in the standings," Gabe offered.

"Yeah, perhaps. If I can." She smiled, happy to hear some proper Quidditch chatter. It was a short-lived feeling, however; once the idea of Quidditch and how she probably couldn't play it any longer needled its way back into her brain.

"Hey, um, are you still friends with that girl?" Dominique asked suddenly. "Chloe was it? The one you hung around with at the Trials?"

A pinched sort of look crossed Vanessa's face, though she clearly wasn't about to let any other sorts of emotions cross it. "We weren't that close to begin with. There just weren't a lot of girls who went to the Trails from our year, and we sort of were—" She looked at Gabe briefly, "put together. We don't talk much."

"Good, she was rubbish," Dominique said matter-of-factly.

Gabe laughed a little, but said nothing to the subject. It was clear Vanessa didn't feel like elaborating on the subject any longer, and quickly changed it. "I got to talk to Zara while she was here. She actually hung out with us a few times—" she glanced again to Gabe, who was nodding. "Your brother once or twice, too."

"But he mostly stuck to Escolera and his group," Gabe said.

"He did, yeah," Vanessa agreed. "We didn't get to know him well. But Zara mentioned you and Jack were seeing each other." When Dominique must have reacted by looking a little startled, she added, "It came up." She smiled. "I'm glad it worked out for you."

Dominique blinked. "Worked out for...?"

"Looking back, it was sort of obvious," she said. "I think at the time I wanted to believe I was just being paranoid, that you really were just friends, but there was something in the way you talked about each other. Clearly—"

At that very moment, Jules had approached the table and pulled out a chair. She sat down without question or comment, and was now staring at Vanessa and Gabe rather particularly. She made it look as if they were the ones who had interrupted her.

Gabe looked away, an eye roll now being hidden from view as he tugged in Vanessa's robe sleeve. Whatever was happening here, it was clear that Jules had completely shifted the mood, seeing as Vanessa—while not as outwardly as put-off as her boyfriend—was no longer as bright eyed as she'd been moments before.

"Anyway," Vanessa said, casting Jules a throwaway look. "It was nice to see you. Perhaps we'll see you at the Quidditch match this weekend."

Jules wrinkled her nose at that, though she looked at Dominique. "You like Quidditch?" When Dominique did nothing more than nod in response, Jules made a bored face.

That time, Vanessa didn't attempt to hide her eye roll before she turned to follow Gabe. They were gone then, leaving Dominique sitting here with this incredibly random girl who she couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Sorry, not much of a Quidditch fan," Jules said as she picked up a nearby silverware roll and proceeded to make her lunch appear. "Not much of a fan of those two—" She pointed in the direction Gabe and Vanessa had gone off in, "either."

"They've always been nice enough," Dominique said, watching her curiously.

"He's not nice," Jules said absently. "He was dating a friend of mine, but he broke up with her for Vanessa. Very messy." She shrugged. "I hate him now. Have to support your friends, you know?"

"I do," Dominique said slowly, still trying to figure out why she'd chosen to come and sit here out of all the places in the room.

Jules swallowed the bite of salad she'd been eating. "Thought you might. I heard how something similar happened with your friend, except, you know, your brother was the dick in that situation. Probably made things complicated for you."

Dominique sat up a little straighter then, finding herself now surprised that she knew about Louis and Sarah. Louis actually told her that story? Why would he have told anyone that story?

"You know about Louis and his ex?"

She nodded. "We had a long talk about it. He said he was with her for ages and he loved her, but…" She pulled a face. "Then he meets Amalie and now your friend is yesterday's news. Now it's all about Miss Perfect." She looked up and met Dominique's eyes. "That last part was my words, not his. But he will carry on for hours about how amazing she is if you let him."

Dominique watched her. "I've noticed."

"And she's not," Jules continued. "She's honestly fairly unremarkable. I mean, yes, she's really clever, and a top student, and inoffensive, but she's also really boring. She has no sense of humor. There is nothing about her warranting anyone to sit there and wax poetic about her."

If Dominique didn't know any better, she was picking up a lot of jealousy at the moment. In the memories she had of Jules, she and Louis did have a lot of intense conversations. Perhaps even a few questionable moments where things could have flipped in an instant. Jules seemed to have caught some feelings; Dominique could certainly feel the pull on Louis' end, though he never did anything about. That usually would have made sense since he was hung up on Amalie, but it also didn't make sense because if he was so hung up on Amalie, why was he even having these moments? Which was it?

Dominique couldn't figure out how Jules figured into this puzzle. Louis had broken up with Sarah for Amalie, who he was supposedly in love with, but he also was clearly having moments with Jules—while still claiming to be in love with Amalie. What was happening? Where the fuck was his head?

"When I first met your brother," Jules continued, "I could not understand what he saw in her. I mean, he's sort of cute."

Dominique raised her eyebrow at her. Oh. So, she was going for the whole "downplay her attraction to Louis" angle. Bold move. Most girls didn't bother with that these days. Sarah was the last person who had, and she'd been full of shit, too.

"Don't get me wrong, I see why people think he's great," she continued, now focusing intently on her food. "But…whatever. He's alright. I think it's more impressive that he's really well-read and very clever, which surprised me. Usually you don't get the looks and the brains, but he got both. And he can be funny."

Dominique sighed. Poor girl. Was she simply in denial or pretending to be for her benefit?

"What I'm trying to say is that he has a lot going for him," Jules said. "Obviously, you know that. But then he's falling all over himself for Amalie Bellamy, and…" She made a face. "It doesn't make sense. If it was someone like your friend, Vanessa, over there—now someone like her I would understand. She's pretty, she's popular, people really like her. But Amalie? She's not the type of girl someone like him falls for. He needs someone with a personality. Someone who can have a laugh."

Dominique leaned forward, smirking as she put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands. "You're not the first girl I've met who thinks Louis picked the wrong one. You probably won't be the last."

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you," Jules said in a lower voice. "I don't think he picked her. I think it's all fake. Or, not fake because he believes it, but it's not his choice."

She sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that when I started to get to know your brother, I learned quickly what you can and cannot say to him." She stared at her. "At first I thought he was fucking mental because even mentioning Amalie made him go off about 'their love' and 'their connection' and blah, blah, blah. I immediately thought he was an obsessive creep.

But Javi kept bringing him around and swearing he was a good guy, so I got to know him more. And Javi was right. When he wasn't on about Amalie, he was so normal and nice to talk to. It started to become more and more apparent that the switch in him was too sudden. He and I would be laughing and having a really good chat one minute, but then in the next, Amalie's name would come up and it was as if his brain fell out of his head. No one acts like that. It wasn't normal."

It wasn't normal, Dominique agreed with that. It apparently was so abnormal that people who barely knew Louis were starting to take notice.

"So, I stopped bringing her up," she continued. "I stopped using her name, I refused to even talk to him if I knew he'd been near her recently. I got Javi to pay attention too, and he finally saw it. We immediately thought of a love potion because Amalie's pretty good a Potions; she could probably whip one up. But then Javi points out Amalie finds him annoying and wants nothing to do with him. So, why bother brewing a potion if you're just going to run away?"

She didn't have an answer to that, but she'd certainly had the same question. It almost did seem as if Louis had been drinking a love potion, but if Amalie was giving it to him, she was doing a poor job following through. She could have him whenever she wanted, but instead was apparently avoiding him like the plague.

At that moment, a small group of people passed by the table, Javier among them. He had stopped while all but one of his friends, a girl, had moved on. The pair of them stopped to take in Jules sitting and speaking to Dominique.

"Making friends?" Javier asked her.

Jules shrugged. "Yes. Shouldn't we be hospitable to our guests?"

"We should," he said, though his tone was curious. He apparently seemed content to join them, and was now pulling out the chair beside Jules. Both of them glanced over at the random girl, as if checking to see if she would be joining as well. She wasn't moving. She was staring at Dominique rather wide-eyed.

"What's wrong, Chloe?" Jules asked, and as soon as her name came out, Dominique was immediately reminded of who she was. She'd just been talking about her with Vanessa, but she didn't look the same as she had back at the Trials. Her blonde hair was now darker. She'd cut a very blunt fringe.

Dominique knew that the last time she'd spoken to her, she'd told her off for being a shitty friend; the two hadn't spoken since. If anything, she was now more annoyed by her face since she knew the one other thing the two had in common was that she also knew what Jack—multiple parts of him—tasted like.

"Oh, shit," Javier said, cracking a smile as he looked between the two of them. "You two have clearly met."

Jules looked curious, though Chloe mumbled something about catching up with the others and walked off without so much as a glance back at them. Dominique watched her go.

"How do you know Chloe?" Jules asked.

"Chloe blew her boyfriend," Javier quipped, taking his silverware and making his food appear in front of him. "At the summer Quidditch thing she went to. Remember how she came back and said she hooked up with some Beater? The beginning of that whole never ending drama with Vanessa."

"We were just talking about that," Jules said, pointing at Dominique before turning to observe her. "So, wait, she screwed around with your boyfriend?"

"No," Dominique said quickly. "He wasn't my boyfriend at the time." She shook her head. "He's not even my boyfriend now."

"You sure about that?" Javier asked, squinting at her. "You've got quite a bit firing off in your head now that you're thinking about him. Those reactions are generally reserved for-"

"Nevermind my head and my feelings," Dominique snapped. "We were talking about Louis. I want to know what you two know about my brother. Why he's acting like a fucking moron lately."

Jules and Javier exchanged looks, though Javier hung on longer than Jules did. He was muttering, "What did you already tell her?" which made her shrug, point to her head, seemingly offering that he could see for himself.

He seemed to do just that, evidently reading the table for a minute before quite suddenly taking three large bites of his lunch. When he was done chewing and swallowing, he put his fork down and sat forward. "Alright. Where do I even begin?"

"What do you see in Louis' head?" Dominique asked bluntly. "What's happening up there?"

"I see a lot of fucked up shit," Javier said, though as he spoke, he also pointed to her. "But I see that with you, too. Now if we're talking about what I see in his head about _Amalie_ , the answer is...nothing."

She stared at him. That couldn't possibly be correct. "Nothing?"

He nodded, though stopped. "Now, I need to explain that." He pointed to her head. "You just were thinking of a boy—your boyfriend or whatever he is. Your head fired off signals that are typical of someone who has feelings for someone." He pointed to Jules, "Her head does that same thing when your brother is around."

Jules threw him a silencing look.

"Please, she already figured out you fancy him," he said dismissively, turning back to Dominique. "It's normal when you think about someone you're attracted to. Now, I'm not saying that when Louis has Amalie on the brain, his thoughts aren't obsessive—they are. They absolutely consume him. But his mind doesn't fire off in the same way. Nothing happens."

"What does that mean?" Dominique asked, looking from one to the other. "How can he have one without the other?"

"Because of this little thing we call, magic," Javier joked, wiggling his fingers in her face as he said it.

"So, you're saying it's something like a love potion?" Dominique asked. "He's not really feeling it, but he's been dosed and tricked?"

Javier shook his head. "Not the way you think. See, Amalie's not the type to go force people to be in love with her. I know Jules wanted to believe some things about her because she finds her annoying, but she and I are friends. We have been for ages. I know her. I literally know the inside of her head, and she wouldn't stoop to that. And if she did, she wouldn't be able to hide it. Even when her Occlumency game is at its strongest, I can crack her rather easily. DiSilva definitely could. If she was dosing someone with a love potion, he'd report her."

"But, she was keen on him when you two met," Jules said. "You told me that."

"So was I," Javier offered. "So were you. You still are. You're well past keen on him."

"No, I..." she began to protest, blushing a little. "It's not...like that."

Javier laughed to himself; his eyes back on Dominique. "Would you believe people still try and lie to me?" He nodded his head toward Jules before laughing again. "Look, your brother's got this magnetism about him, I'll give him that. And me and Amalie did check out his head when we first met him. I was immediately disappointed that he's straight. Amalie was disappointed he had a girlfriend. It was a two minute, funny sort conversation that we both moved on from as soon as we'd gotten our answers." He looked back at Dominique. "She thought he was cute, she wasn't plotting some elaborate plan to manipulate him through potions."

Dominique felt as if she was never going to leave this now permanent state of confusion she seemed to be living in. So if she was following correctly, Louis wasn't reading as being in love with Amalie, but he clearly was believing he was. She still didn't understand the difference, but something was causing him to feel this way. What sort of magic was at play here if not a love potion? And who'd done it to him?

"All excellent questions," Javier conceded.

"No, stop," Jules said, pointing at him. "We're not doing that thing where you read everyone and don't share with the rest of us."

"She wants to know if it's not a love potion, what is it?" Javier said, looking Dominique in the eye. "That, I can't say for sure. There's nothing in his head to indicate one way or another, only obsessive thoughts at the sight or mention of Amalie. But Jules has a theory."

"It makes the most sense," Jules said. "Anyone who's studied the history of the ancient magic—"

"So, her and four other people," Javier offered.

"—can see that this is clearly a love spell at work."

"Love spells are a myth," Dominique said, thinking back on all the fairy tales and stories her parents and grandparents would tell her as a small girl. In one of the more popular ones, an ugly hag had cast a love spell on a handsome hunter, causing him to fall madly in love with her. It ended rather grimly, what with the hunter cursing the hag through the heart with a fatal spell. Dominique had actually feared afterwards that someone would come along some day and trick her into falling in love with them, but her mother assured her that love spells weren't real. Potions, yes, but not spells. No one could use their wand to make you fall in love with them.

"They're not a myth," Jules said matter-of-factly. "They're old magic. Magic from centuries, even millennia ago that was lost to the ages. There's plenty of evidence they existed."

"Can we skip the history lesson," Javier said, holding up his hand to stop her. Jules swatted his hand away.

"Fine," Dominique said. "Let's say they did exist, you said it yourself, they're ancient. They're extinct—"

"They're extinct in modern circles," Jules argued. "There are parts of our world that are rumored to still contain the magic of the old souls. Parts where none of it ever left."

Dominique raised her eyebrow. "And you think Louis caught wind of it somewhere? You're telling me he's been hanging out in ancient magical places where—"

"No, I'm telling you he's been trapped in ancient magical places where this magic is still prevalent," Jules countered.

Dominique stopped. Like a Bludger to the head, she suddenly started to understand and put the pieces together. The fucking mountain. They'd gone on about it's strange levels or magic, both dark and ancient. The strange creatures and magic that most wizards didn't understand and couldn't contain.

"She's figuring it out," Javier said, nudging Jules as they both observed her.

"Javier can even tell you," Jules continued, "when he was there, that it made him feel things. Think things…"

"At one point, I had the urge to kill someone," Javier said grimly, looking lost in his thoughts. "I'm not even kidding. There was a five minute span where, had I come across someone, I could have done it and not even cared." He blinked. "Luckily, I didn't run into anyone or anything, and I fought the urge off with an old mental magic trick, but…" He nodded. "Things happened to me up there that I'll never understand." He stared at her. "And there isn't enough money in the world to ever get me back up there again."

Dominique suddenly felt very frozen to the spot, her thoughts racing. "Louis mentioned that he felt at one point that he felt he was in love with Zara while he was up there, but that he fought it off."

"And that's why I now believe," Jules said, "that once he got trapped up there, growing weaker and dying, that the same spell got a hold on him and buried itself in deep. And who was there for him to fixate on?"

"Amalie," Dominique said, her voice faraway.

Jules nodded as if she'd just proven her point. "It's not real. It's a spell. One that flares up whenever he sees or hears Amalie."

"If she's not around," Javier added, "he does gradually returns to normal." He shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand why, but as long as Amalie isn't around or being talked about, he's fine." He gestured to Jules, "It's why he and her started hitting it off because Amalie avoids Louis, so he and Jules got close. Amalie's not in the back of his mind like most people's crushes would be because his feelings aren't real. He's not thinking about her unless he's obsessively thinking about her."

"That's the problem," Jules said, sounding rather grumpy about it. "He's not thinking about her unless someone brings her up, but when she inevitably is brought up because of this bloody tournament that ties them together, his thoughts become so obsessive that he refuses to believe she wasn't there the whole time."

"And he'll fucking fight you if you tell him otherwise," Javier said, his expression looking as if that had occurred a time or two.

Dominique had a million questions, and she couldn't even focus on which one she should ask first. If they knew it was a spell, then what could be done? Shouldn't they tell someone? Surely, someone far more experienced would know what to do.

"We've only recently started figuring all of this out," Javier said, now returning to, what had to be, an ice cold lunch. "Over the last week or so." He looked at Jules. "Right before the second task."

She nodded.

"And I have plans to talk to DiSilva about it later," Javier added. "We'll have to see what he says now we've started to talk about it. My fear is that," he sighed, "somehow, the second task and the damage your two incurred made it worse."

"Worse!?" Dominique said. "How could it have gotten worse?"

"Because your heads are in a very delicate state right now," Javier said. "It's giving an already strong spell less to fight against. And, trying to magic out a deep rooted spell could cause more, far more permanent damage." He frowned. "That's ultimately what DiSilva's trying to work out. How much can he do without fucking you both up worse."

Dominique looked away. She was so tired of hearing how bad a shape her head was when she didn't feel that different. Yes, there were differences, but she felt mostly normal. She wasn't plagued with weird pains or headaches; she mostly felt like she always had. What possibly was happening to her that was so fucking bad?

"That's what we're waiting to see," Javier said quietly, looking at her rather sympathetically. "It's still too early to tell just how far the damage goes."


	7. A Collection of Terrible Decisions

Javier and Jules had to leave for their afternoon lessons after lunch, leaving Dominique still with more questions than answers about the current state of her and her brother. If Louis was truly under a spell, then it needed to be addressed. It needed to be fixed. He was doing nothing but causing everyone—most of all himself—grief and heartache by being stuck under its powers.

"We need proof that it's a spell first," Javier was saying as Dominique walked with them out of the Dining Chamber. "That's step one, and what I'm hoping DiSilva can help to figure. If I can convince him that it's true, then…" He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

"Can I ask you one more question before you go," Dominique asked, stopping just outside of the Dining Chamber, where students in their blue robes were shuffling past in a hurried fashion. There were so many of them that it was truly almost as if a sea had flooded the corridor.

Javier nodded, claiming that he didn't care whether or not he was on time for his Arithmancy class since his professor was a pushover; he would just read her mind in order to tell her all the things she needed to hear to get himself forgiven quickly. Jules seemed annoyed by this, as if she'd seen him manipulate people in this way a time or two before, and claimed that she had to get to her History of Magic class. Her professor apparently wasn't as forgiving about tardiness.

"What does Amalie think about all of this?" Dominique asked him.

"About Louis being obsessed with her?" Javier asked. "It creeps her out. I think that level of obsession would creep anyone out, even if he's as hot as your brother is."

"Is that why she avoids him?"

He nodded. "From what I saw, he came on far too strong once all of this started happening." He let his eyes go wide. "Really strong. Telling her they were going to get married and how they were meant to be together." Javier laughed. "It scared her and she eventually told him to leave her alone."

"Louis said she'd told him she was angry with him about him lying about having a girlfriend. That's apparently why she was done with him. But you'd mentioned she already knew."

"She used that as an excuse," Javier said, waving her off and walking a few steps, though urging her to walk with him. "She was throwing all sorts of reasons she didn't want to talk to him at him after he would not leave her alone. She knew he had a girlfriend. She didn't care. As I mentioned, she had a harmless little attraction to him back at Durmstrang. She liked looking at him. I liked looking at him. Both of us did. There's not much else to look at up there." He made a face. "It's so boring."

Dominique smirked a little. So, Amalie was keen on Louis at one point, apparently in a minor way. He would have still been in love with Sarah. It made Dominique think of her and how she really had gotten a shitty deal with all of this. She hadn't been cheated on, Louis had been tricked; he was still being tricked. It all seemed particularly sad. Neither of them deserved that.

"Does Amalie know it's a spell?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "She knows it's not normal and that it's strange, but that's all she thinks when he comes up. She doesn't like talking about it." He looked a little sheepish all of the sudden. "We—those of us in DiSilva's class—have done our fair share of teasing at her for the whole situation. But before I realized it was spell damage or something serious, it was honestly just sort of funny. She's never been the girl with the boy drama, so we all had a laugh. Well, not Amalie." He frowned. "But it's not funny. I do plan on talking to her about it."

"Do you have any theories as to why she wasn't affected," Dominique asked once they came to the stairway that Javier presumably had to climb. "On the mountain that is. She was trapped as well."

He shook his head. "No idea. Magic—particularly that ancient stuff—can affect people differently. I've tried to read her thoughts from that night, and it's a dark and scary place in her head. It reminded me too much of my own experience, so I had to get out."

He turned to walk up the stairs, which were now almost entirely abandoned due to everyone else having made it to class already. "But remember that she's also very strong mentally. It comes from years of mental training and working with DiSilva. I told you the urges tried to overcome me, but I know myself. I know mental exercises to bring myself back. She knows the same ones. I can see how she would have been able to fight them off longer than Louis would have. That's the only thing that makes sense."

Dominique nodded, thanking him for what information he had and telling him she would see him in a few short hours for her second round with DiSilva scraping the inside of her brain. She honestly didn't know what to make of any of this or what she could do to help. If it was a spell, there was no talking him out of it; no smacking him around until he came to his senses. The best she could do was hope someone with far more skill and ability could fix the issue now that it was coming to light. That and not mention Amalie's name and keep Louis as far away from her as possible.

She'd made her way all the way back to the Dining Chamber, when she noticed Louis appearing from the opposite direction, looking as if he'd just entered the palace. Their eyes immediately met, and she was suddenly reminded that they'd rowed hours earlier. She wasn't exactly sure where they stood. She wasn't sure if he was himself or the person who'd gotten a recent punch in the head by his love spell.

She stood tentatively, watching as he drew nearer. His face was blank, though he spoke once he was within arm's length. "Where have you been?"

"Here."

"Just wandering around?"

She shrugged, still unsure as to what was happening here or whether he was still angry or not.

He didn't react one way or the other, glancing toward the now empty Dining Chamber. "I took a nap. I was exhausted after earlier. Did you eat?"

She blinked. He didn't seem angry. She shook her head, thinking about how she'd spent over an hour in the Dining Chamber, but hadn't bothered to eat a single thing while she was there.

"I'm starving," he said, turning at that and leading the way inside. She inhaled slowly, still feeling rather unsure as what exactly was happening now, but followed him nonetheless. He'd gone to the nearest table and plopped down, immediately taking it upon himself to conjure food. She sat down across from him, her eyes still scanning his face in an attempt to get some sort of read on him.

He looked back at her, his eyes shifting rather uneasily under her gaze. "Are you alright?"

"Are you?"

He laughed a little as he tucked into the sandwich that had appeared in front of him. "Yes. I had a nap, so I feel worlds better. Timmith was annoyed since I didn't want to do lessons and you never turned up, but…" He shrugged. "Oh well. He'll survive."

She sat forward in her seat. Was he really going to pretend he'd never shouted at her earlier? "Have you forgotten we're fighting?"

He threw her a funny look, as if that was news to him, though didn't seem bothered by what she'd said. "Are we? I remember we had a bit of a back and forth, but I didn't think it was that serious.".

"You called me broken."

That part triggered a genuine curious reaction from him. "Did I? What part of you did I call broken?"

"Louis this was two hours ago," she said, now sounding confused herself. "You called me broken because I can't make sense of my feelings and—" She stopped cold. She'd been about to say how he apparently knew better because of his feelings for Amalie, but now she knew better.

Louis was staring at her rather expectantly, as if he was waiting for her to finish that sentence. When she didn't, he sighed and said, "If I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry, but…" He shrugged. "I mean, it's sort of true. You are a bit of a mess when it comes to these feelings you've got for Jack."

She looked away. She had so much on her mind right now that she was certain even DiSilva wouldn't be able to sort them out, but apparently Louis wanted to add Jack on top of everything else. She knew they had to have it out or else Louis was free to take the information he'd learned in her memories and do with it what he pleased. He'd obviously interpreted it how he'd wanted—that she was broken.

"You know, a part of me wishes when you found out about everything that you would have gotten angry and told me it couldn't ever happen. Then I wouldn't have to have this conversation."

"Since when do you listen to me?" he asked as he chewed on a piece of celery. "Also, that'd be rather selfish of me. Especially once I got a sense of how you really feel about him."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she said. "But he and I are barely on speaking terms right now. You're free to go ahead and search through those memories of mine to see why, but the last time he and I even spoke, we'd had a row."

"I'm fairly certain every last conversation you have with anyone ends in a row."

She glared at him.

"And I already did look around in your memories," Louis continued. "What I've seen is that you are a collection of terrible decisions that's hellbent on destroying everything you and he have despite the fact that you're madly in love with him—"

"Would you stop saying that!?"

"I won't because it's true," he said, "I get that you're terrified of being in love, but it doesn't make it any less true. You're in love with him, you're scared, so you're fucking things up left and right because you refuse to let yourself be happy."

Dominique scoffed. He had no idea—absolutely no idea as to how she felt. He only had pieces of memories and some supposed feelings to go along with them, but what he was saying was...it was...it was complicated and complex and...and...he could...

"Fuck off."

"Yeah, keep denying it," Louis said, pointing his celery at her. "Keep fucking things up with someone who does and can make you happy. Keep running around with fuckers like Davies and see where that gets you."

For whatever reason, that got her quiet. She knew she'd been making mistakes, but was she really doing it on purpose to avoid confronting her own feelings? She wasn't intentionally trying to—she didn't think so at least. It just kept happening. She genuinely didn't know how to fix it.

"He doesn't want to fix things," she said finally.

"Bollocks." Louis muttered. "You're talking to me—his best friend in the world. You want to know how to fix things, I'm the person you should be talking to. I know him better than anyone."

This was officially one of the strangest days the two of them had ever had. On one hand, he was absolutely right. Jack and he had spent years being inseparable. He probably was the one person who knew him well enough to be commenting on this. On the other hand, he was her brother, giving her advice about her love life. When his love life was currently...whatever it was.

"Fine," she said, almost begrudgingly as she leaned forward in her seat and folded her hands together on the table. "Let's hear what you have to say. How do I fix things?"

Louis stopped eating and leaned back in his chair. "First, you admit to yourself how you feel about him, because once you realize that you'll stop with the bullshit games. Second, you need to realize who you're dealing with."

She stared at him. He may have had years of history with Jack, but she knew him, too. He wasn't a bloody stranger.

"Jack," he said, "well, if we're being honest, he's got a bit of an inferiority complex."

"What? No, he doesn't. What does he have to be feeling inferior about? He's an internationally ranked Beater—"

"For fuck's sake. Not everything is about Quidditch. In fact, most things aren't."

"Ok, well, it still doesn't explain—"

"For starters, has he ever told you about his childhood?"

She stared at him, she realized she had no idea what he was talking about. Jack didn't talk much about his Muggle life, but he'd never made it seem bad. He'd never made it seem...anything. He just never spoke about it.

"He got pushed around a lot as a kid because he was weird," Louis continued. "And he was weird because he couldn't control his magic because he didn't know he was a wizard. It must be hard growing up Muggleborn, because you make strange shit happen and can't explain it. That, combined with kids who are cruel, it doesn't mix. He took a lot of heat for it."

"He's never once mentioned—"

"He doesn't talk about it," Louis continued. "I've only put the story together after years of knowing him."

"Ok, but I still don't see how that means—"

"Then," he continued, cutting her right off. "He gets to Hogwarts and he's finally figuring himself out. Things are turning around. But he meets me and we become friends. Best friends." He looked at her. "And while I don't regret that decision for one second, I know for a fact there were days he probably thought that being my friend was a raw deal."

"I mean, you're a pain in the arse, Lou, but I can't see why—"

"Because of girls," Louis said. "That's where I'm going with this. And I'm not looking to talk myself up here, but I know of—at least—three instances where he fancied someone, only to find out they fancied me."

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing for a moment before adding, "And it's not as if I asked for any of it, I didn't. I tried to stay away from the ones he fancied…" He stopped and made a face. "Well, mostly. There was that one time, but…" He sighed. "Look, I know it wasn't easy for him. I honestly think that's why he's so selective with girls now. He got burned a few times."

Dominique immediately found herself transported back to Jack's room; the night of the first challenge. He'd admitted all of that to her. She hadn't taken it as him feeling inferior—not seriously, at least—but rather in more of a "Louis' perfection is annoying" sort of story.

"Then, you've got this shit with you and Davies. Jack finally finds a girl who won't ever fancy me over him, but she's going back and forth on this fucking loser." He pulled a face." He's got to be asking himself what he's done wrong because he's a fucking catch, Nic. You know he is. He's a great guy. He cares. He's not a fuck up." He started shaking his head. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

She said nothing to that. She found herself absently watching a wood nymph serenading some of its friends.

"So, yeah. If you want my advice, you need to show him you want him. Just him. Not him as a second choice, not him as a back-up plan. Not him because some other arsehole didn't work out, but because he _did_ work out. Tell him how you really feel."

"Sarah said that, too."

"Not surprising. We've talked about Jack before."

She sighed heavily. "He knows I fancy him."

"Tell him you're in love with him. Say those actual words."

She immediately shook her head back and forth rapidly. "No. No. No. I can't. I'm.. not ready for that. I'm still not even sure I do."

"You do," he said affirmatively. "And that brings up back to step one. Admit to yourself how you really feel about him. Can't fix anything unless you do that." He picked up his sandwich again. "Don't make me be the one to tell him."

"NO!" she screamed, feeling suddenly panicked. "Louis. No. You can't...that's not fair! You can't tell him anything. Nothing that you've seen, that's my business! And it's my news to tell."

He shrugged as if he agreed with that. "You're right. And no one wants to hear that sort of thing secondhand. So, I suggest you figure it out."

She stared at him, noticing how normal he seemed. His classic know-it-allness shining through, the confident gaze in his eyes. He was focused and alert; cool and collected. She decided then she needed to test the spell theory for herself. She needed to see it. See how long it took to wear off and what exactly she was dealing with now that she knew.

"Amalie," she said, her eyes never leaving his face.

Louis' entire expression changed instantaneously. His entire demeanor perked up. He smiled widely, as if it were Christmas morning and they were five years old again. Something had extinguished in his eyes. He was now looking around rather urgently. "Where? What about her? Is she here?"

"She's somewhere alright," she said, shaking her head.

* * *

One week at Beauxbatons was turning into two. That was how long Dominique had been in France, living on a bus, and spending nearly every day sitting in a dark, creepy classroom with a madman who constantly infiltrated the inside of her head in search of answers.

Louis had been right—there was something deeply unsettling about DiSilva. He would have them come and sit for hours and just stare at them, completely uninterested in the fact that they were clearly uncomfortable and the entire process was unbearable. Louis ended up having a row with Timmith one afternoon before they were supposed to visit, swearing up and down he couldn't handle another three hours sitting and staring at that man's face; that he was ready to start living his life with his new brain functions and to hell with setting things right. Dominique was at the point as well, but she was putting up with everything for the sole fact that she wanted her flying ability back. She would do anything to make that happen.

Timmith did eventually come through for them. After a discussion with Madame Maxime and DiSilva, she and Louis were allowed to bring books to read during their sessions. Eventually, once DiSilva was doing a lot less staring at them and a lot more jotting in a diary, Timmith had even managed to combine this time with their school efforts, and would sometimes join them in the afternoons in the room to work on their school subjects while DiSilva worked. That was a nice resolution of sorts since it gave her and Louis the mornings to themselves. They could have a lie in, take walks, or just keep to themselves—something they found almost necessary these days.

Dominique had kept trying to get a hold of Javier to ask him if he'd spoken to DiSilva, or anyone, about Louis' unique form of spell damage and what could be done, but it was hard seeing as Louis was always around for most of these encounters. She had seen at least four or five instances now of the effects the spell had on her brother when he'd catch a glimpse of Amalie at meals or in passing. The dumb, love-stuck illness overcome in an instant each time, and she hated absolutely everything about it.

"DiSilva says he's got a potion that he thinks may help," Javier said to her once the two finally caught a moment before one of their famous afternoon brain scraping sessions. Dominique had come up to the palace early after having finished all of the readings for her school work rather quickly. Louis had needed to stay behind to put in some extra work with Timmith on his Potions revision.

"A potion?" Dominique said, looking skeptical. "That's the best he can do? Isn't he a master of the fucking mind? Why is he resorting to a potion?"

"Do you want to help your brother or don't you?"

"I want to help him, but I was hoping for a more permanent fix. A counterspell to drive it away."

"Again, this is ancient magic and it's very difficult to sort out," Javier explained. "Not to mention, we still can't find it inside of Louis' head. It's buried somewhere beneath all of the other shit you two have going on. If we had caught it before the second task, we may have been able to sniff it out easily, but as it is…" He sighed and shrugged.

She'd wondered if he'd read her mind at some point and now knew how sick and tired she was of hearing how fucked up she and Louis' heads were since the second task. She didn't want to hear about it unless someone was going to do something about it. It was especially hard since she still hadn't felt the effects of this supposed awful spell damage outside of her brother's memories, her flying issues, her new found ability to retain extra information and read faster, and her strong distaste for melon. The way Javier kept making it sound, she felt she was about to crack any day.

"DiSilva says this potion has roots stemming from the ancient warlocks, and they believe that drinking it would drive away the dark and formidable magic that would attack the unsuspecting."

Dominique looked away. That sounded like some storybook, mythological bullshit if she'd ever heard it. This was their great plan?

"Our Potions Master also stands by it," Javier said matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't keen on her lack of enthusiasm. "It's worth a shot."

She didn't answer, but instead glanced down the corridor in search of Louis to appear. Outside of separating him and Amalie for good—which wouldn't happen until after this tournament was over—it was the best chance he had.

But when presented with the potion less than a half an hour later, Louis had refused to take it. Dominique had to admit that it smelled heavily of grass, so she could understand the hesitation. But when Javier had presented it to him as they sat waiting for DiSilva to arrive, Louis hadn't even gotten a whiff of it before he flat out refused.

"I'm not taking anything DiSilva wants me to," Louis said, "I'm done accepting anything that man wants to give me. I'm done with all of this." He gestured around the room. "I just want to go home."

Javier had stared at him, holding out the pewter cup filled with the grassy smelling ancient potion and seemingly lost as to what to say. "It'll help with your spell damage."

Louis shook his head. "I'm going to need to have someone who isn't DiSilva tell me that." He threw Javier a look, "And sorry, Javi. While I'd love to trust you, when it comes to him, I know you're doing his bidding." He looked over at Dominique. "Don't take anything DiSilva tries to give you. He's gotten you twice now. Don't go for three."

While true, what Louis failed to realize was that Javier only had one cup in his hand. He was only offering it to him.

"New plan," Javier said to her the next day, having caught up with Louis and Dominique in the Dining Chamber after lunch. Jules had tagged along and was currently holding Louis' attention, the two having a playful sort of conversation and blatantly flirting, which was of course typical of Louis and pretty girls. Since there was no Amalie around to trigger his spell, he was in his charming element.

"So, I came up with a way to get Louis to drink the potion and test if it helps him," he said now that Louis was distracted. "It took a lot of work to set this up, so it better fucking work."

Dominique's eyebrow raised, but Javier only said that she'd see that afternoon. She didn't see how he was going to convince Louis to change his mind, but stranger things had been known to happen.

As they sat in the dark room later that day, with Louis and Dominique scribbling out a Transfiguration essay that Timmith had given them while DiSilva sat creepily observing them and constantly jotting in his diary, the door to the classroom opened. Javier had walked in wheeling in a small trolley for which a cauldron was situated on top. The room immediately began to smell of freshly cut grass, which caused both she and Louis to wrinkle their noses at how overpowering it was.

"Thank you, Mr. Escolera," DiSilva said in a bored tone, not looking up from his book. "You may now…" But he never finished that sentence. Apparently, he didn't have to since Javier turned and left without a word, seemingly having understood him.

DiSilva stood and walked directly over to the cauldron, his own face twisting into disgust the closer he got. He somehow materialized a cover for the cauldron, which helped the strong smell only slightly. He'd turned to face the pair of them at the front.

"Mr. Weasley—"

"I'm not drinking that," Louis said straight away. He looked at Dominique. "We're not drinking that."

"What if I were to say it would help with a great deal of your problems?"

"I wouldn't believe you," Louis said.

DiSilva stared at him for a long moment. "Mr. Weasley, why are you still here if not to help fix your predicament?"

Louis shrugged, his demeanor very condescending. It was highly unlike him to not at least try to placate an authority figure. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. I don't think any of this," he looked around, "is helping. I think you have no idea how to fix us. I think you're wasting our time. I think you're using us as some sort of fucked up project, and I think we should be allowed to go home."

Dominique looked from Louis to DiSilva. If she were being honest, she agreed with him. Outside of, maybe, helping Louis tackle this love spell, she also thought DiSilva was no closer to fixing them. She was, however, trying hard to put those thoughts out of her mind. She didn't want him in her head reading that. She was starting to feel as though she could sense him in her brain, and she hated the feeling.

DiSilva laughed quietly, but it was humorless. "If you feel I'm wasting your time, then perhaps you should leave."

"Fantastic," Louis said, standing up all of the sudden and gathering his things. "Best news I've heard in ages."

Dominique saw that DiSilva was now looking at her, as if challenging her to do the same. She knew he'd seen in her head how concerned she was for her brother over this spell—the one thing that seemed someone could possibly fix—and he almost seemed to be willing her to let this opportunity walk out the door. He actually seemed to be letting her make the decision entirely.

"Lou, maybe you should…" she said, reaching out to stop him from picking up his book off the table. When he caught her eye to ask what she was doing, she sighed. "I mean, maybe you should...we should try?"

His eyebrows practically bounced into his hairline. "You're serious?" He pointed over to DiSilva. "You're willing to take anything he's offering after he's—"

She sighed. "What if it can help?"

"What if it wipes our head clean of everything? What if we forget how to talk? What if we're turned into slugs? Nic, all of these things are possibilities. You can't be willing to take that risk."

"Then why did we even stay here for the last week and a half if we weren't willing to let him…" She trailed off. She felt strange talking about DiSilva as if he wasn't in the room.

"Because we didn't know any better at first, but now we do," Louis said, tugging his book out from under her hand and throwing it in his bag. "I've had a week to come to my senses and frankly, I'm done."

Dominique didn't know what else to say. Louis seemed to have his mind positively made up. She looked back over at DiSilva, who still didn't seem the least bit alarmed by Louis' behavior. He actually seemed to be rather amused by it.

Louis had just finished shutting up his bag when the door to the room swung open once more. Javier was back, and he was now nodding at DiSilva. DiSilva nodded as well before beckoning for him to, "Bring her in."

Javier poked his head back outside the room, returned moments later to stand aside and allow a very tentative, very hesitant looking Amalie to enter. She immediately folded her arms across her chest and stood beside Javier, who seemed to be silently reassuring her that it was fine. She finally let her gaze settle on Louis.

As if a bolt of lightning struck, Dominique could immediately sense Louis' demeanor change. The dopey smile, the glazed look in his eye, the complete loss of every coherent thought in his head. It came washing over him like a wave. "Hey, Amalie."

She took a deep breath, her eyes now bouncing rather anxiously from Javier to DiSilva. Dominique could hear her whispering, "I just have to ask him to drink it?"

"That's it, Miss Bellamy," DiSilva said with a nod of his head. "In fact, it may be best if you personally hand it to him."

Amalie didn't seem excited by that, though she dutifully did as she was told and walked over to the cauldron. When she removed the lid, she looked as if the overwhelming smell of grass smacked her in the face.

As she set to work ladling out a glass full, Javier had walked over to Louis and was examining him rather absently. "Hey, Louis."

"Hey," he said, his eyes never leaving Amalie and his greeting sounding rather empty.

"How are you?"

"Amazing," he said, the same way as before.

Javier made a face as if to say that was about what he'd expected. He turned and threw Dominique an encouraging look, which she didn't return since she was still a bit confused. Apparently, their plan was to have Amalie ask him to drink the potion, which, while something, didn't seem as expertly thought out as she'd had hoped.

"It's worth a shot," Javier said to her before rounding back on Louis. "Louis, Amalie's got something for you. Something she's quite keen on you trying."

"You honestly think he'll drink this?" Amalie asked as she struggled to top the last bit of the cup off.

"I think if you tell him how much it means to you, he will," Javier said, throwing her a look.

She took a deep breath as she walked over to where Louis sat. He was still staring at her as if she'd hung the moon and the stars, and the closer she got the bigger his smile grew. As she drew up beside Javier, Louis immediately said, "I love you."

"Right," Amalie said, holding out the glass. "Um, I'd like it if you could drink this." Javier nudged her in the side just then. It caused her to add. "Please. It would mean a lot to me."

Louis nodded and reached out to take it immediately from her. He drew it up to his face to drink, thought stopped once he got it close enough to smell. For the briefest of moments, Dominique thought she saw him questioning whether he should, but he now was already smiling and telling her how amazing it smelled, "just like grass."

He gulped it down rather easily, which made Dominique question whether normal bodily functions such as a gag reflex were also impaired by spells. She couldn't even watch since it made her stomach turn a bit. After thirty seconds, it was over. He'd drank the whole cup.

"How long should it take?" Dominique asked.

"Couple of minutes?" Javier offered, though he didn't seem sure. He turned to look at DiSilva for confirmation, though he was quietly observing. He seemed to be willing to wait and see.

"If this works," Dominique asked out loud to no one in particular, "would he have to take that every day?"

"For as long as Amalie's in the picture," Javier said.

Louis was no stranger to taking potions every day given his anxiety, but he probably wouldn't be keen on the new one. This was the question Dominique now had. If the potion worked and he was no longer enchanted by Amalie's presence and name, then how exactly were they planning on having him keep up the routine? He'd shown he didn't want to do it on his own; he'd shown he only did it because Amalie asked him to. But if she no longer had a hold on him, then why would he feel the need to take it? And if he didn't take it, then the spell damage would come right back.

"Valid concerns, Miss Weasley," came DiSilva's voice from across the room. "One's that will need to be addressed if this works."

Amalie had stepped back several paces now, though Louis was still staring at her rather vacantly. It had been about two minutes; most potions would have taken effect by now. Dominique wasn't used to waiting this long, but perhaps the ancient remedies weren't built for speed.

And then it happened. Louis blinked a few times and looked around. He suddenly swallowed very hard, as if he had an awful taste in his mouth and glanced down at the cup in his hand. He looked a bit nauseated.

"What did I drink?" he asked lamely. "Why did I drink that?"

"A fairly standard potion," Javier said, reaching out to take the cup from him. "Helps balance the mind after spell damage."

"Is this the stuff DiSilva wanted me to take?"

"It...is," Javier said, glancing around the room at everyone else. "I know you weren't interested, but I think you'll find—"

"Did you trick me into taking it?" Louis asked angrily, glancing around the room. As annoyed as he seemed, Dominique knew that everyone in the room was far more focused on the fact that he was actually experiencing an emotion that wasn't obsession at the moment. Amalie was standing ten feet away and she was probably the person he was least focused on in the room.

Javier was shaking his head, though it was DiSilva who had stepped forward to address Louis' concerns. "No. Amalie, here, offered it to you and you took it. Drank it with no complaint. I can see you don't believe me, but feel free to ask your sister. She'll vouch for the story and I know you trust her."

Louis turned and looked a little desperately at Dominique. He wanted the truth, and the truth was that the words that had come out of DiSilva's mouth were completely true. Even if there was a certain level of trickery involved, it had all been rather straightforward. He wouldn't understand the complete truth, and she didn't want him to panic and storm out. This was especially true since the potion seemed to have worked. Louis hadn't even flinched when DiSilva had said Amalie's name.

"She gave it to you and you drank it," Dominique confirmed.

Louis looked utterly confused. "When...Why would I…?" He continued to look at her. "Did you take it, too?"

Dominique slowly inhaled. DiSilva and Amalie were simply staring at her while Javier's face tightened up uncomfortably. He seemed to be willing her to say she had to keep up appearances, and if she did that, she would officially then be lying to him. But if she said she hadn't, then she may have to drink it in solidarity.

She exhaled. She didn't like it, but it wasn't as if the two of them hadn't lied to each other before. "Yes."

Louis blinked and looked back at DiSilva. "I swear to Merlin if this shit fucks her and I up more—"

"I don't believe that it will," DiSilva said coolly. "I think you'll find you mind clearer than it has been in ages." He turned to Amalie. "Do you agree, Amalie?"

She seemed confused as to why she was being addressed. Dominique, however, suspected that DiSilva was trying to draw attention toward her. "Um, I should hope so, sir."

Louis didn't flinch once again. He seemed far too aggravated with what had occurred to even pay her the slightest bit of attention. Dominique glanced at Javier, who was smiling as if to say they'd done it. Dominique mustered a weak smile herself. She could only hope that were the case.

* * *

A/N: Back to Hogwarts in the next update!


	8. Goodbyes and Hellos

Once his initial anger waned in the days that followed, Louis had to admit that he felt different. It was a good difference, he'd claimed, telling Dominique the day after that he'd been getting very strange headaches while at Beauxbatons that seemed to come and go, but after having taken that grassy looking potion, the headaches had disappeared. He did feel clearer headed and even a bit more focused, even if his school work was still bogging him down in a way he wasn't familiar with. Still, he seemed to finally admit that perhaps the potion had been beneficial; maybe it was the first step on the path to getting back to normal.

"I wonder if we keep taking it, if it'll gradually just build us back up," Louis had said to her as the pair walked down to DiSilva's room. "You know, a slow repair of our minds. Maybe one day we'll just wake up and you'll fly well again and I'll be able to…" He trailed off, his gaze straight ahead and distant.

"That's the goal, isn't it?" she said. "Back to normal."

"Yeah. Right."

He'd asked her if she was feeling the benefits, and she lied and told him she was—that her head was clearer, things weren't as fuzzy, headaches had disappeared. She was simply repeating everything he was saying back to him; continuing to let him believe that she was taking the same mixture as he was. She had made the excuse that she needed to drink it near a toilet for fear of not keeping it down, which allowed her to excuse herself from the room while Louis would openly take it right in DiSilva's room. She hated lying to him, but it had to be done for his own good.

Along with Javier, DiSilva was having Amalie stop into their afternoon meetings now, mostly to test Louis on how well the potion was keeping his spell at bay. It also allowed her some practice time in reading them, which now that Louis didn't creep her out, Amalle seemed rather amused by. She was certainly more at ease now that he was treating her like a human being instead of the most prized possession in the world. There were even a few laughs to be had between the two, which—as Dominique knew—Louis would always play up. He was incapable of not partially flirting with every girl he ever met.

"So," Javier had said to Dominique, having met her at the door after she'd returned from her potion dumping in the bathroom, "turns out the spell isn't completely shaken."

She stared at him. "Come again?"

"It's not bad," he said, taking her cup from her and setting it on a nearby counter. "It's manageable. Look at it this way, on a scale of one to ten, before he'd been a full blown ten. Ten being mad love, obsession, unhealthy levels." He paused. "Now, when Amalie's around, he's reading at about a high three. Maybe a soft four. His brain still isn't firing off those attraction signs, but his thoughts do circle back to her often when she's here. It's a more normal, healthy sort of attraction."

"But it's still not real."

He shook his head. "No. If nothing's firing off, it's not real, which is why we think the spell isn't entirely shaken. But at least he's not being weird about it." He glanced over to where Amalie was currently pointing something out to Louis in his Potions book. "We shouldn't have to worry. I mean, when Jules is around he's legitimately firing off at about a five or six—I've seen it—and he's perfectly well behaved. I just wanted you to be prepared if, for some reason, if you see signs of him falling back into old habits. As long as he stays the course and keeps taking the potion, he'll be fine."

Staying the course; taking the potion. She was going to have to make sure he stayed on it once they got back to Hogwarts, even if Amalie wouldn't be around. She would eventually—the third task was just around the corner—and if he stopped taking it, he'd fall right back when she got there. She was going to have to keep going along with the lie that this potion was an overall solution to both of their spell damage, not just something specific to Louis. She would have to keep up appearances.

Near the end of what would have been about two weeks in France, Timmith announced to them that he was being called back to the Ministry and they would be leaving the following day. DiSilva would have liked a few more days, but McGonagall had put her foot down. He'd apparently had double the amount of time he'd originally requested and she refused to believe he didn't have all the information he needed at this point. As Timmith said, "Professor McGonagall feels he can finish the rest on his own. He's apparently welcome to visit Hogwarts if he needs any additional time with you. It's time for the two of you to go home."

While Dominique had wanted to go home, she still felt slightly panicked to hear they were leaving without being set right. She was essentially in the exact same spot she was at the start of this; nothing had changed. Louis had made some headway with other issues, but his damage from the second task was still untouched as hers was. She had been under the impression there would have been some change. She obviously couldn't voice these concerns, seeing as Louis was under the impression that things were getting better, but she felt tremendously disappointed. It was hard not to feel as if the entire process had been a complete failure.

Counting the time she'd been unconscious after the task, Dominique had been gone two and a half weeks; Louis had been gone nearly two months. While her visit to Beauxbatons had been pleasant enough, it would have been better under less life-altering circumstances. She did find peace in that fact that she'd been given an opportunity to visit a place that held a part of her mother's heart. She tried to look on the bright side of things and not associate the palace with all of the stress and negativity she'd been forced to deal with. After all, she'd met some nice people and seen some lovely sights.

Javier had come and sat with them at breakfast on the day they were set to leave, informing both of them that he was owed a tour of Hogwarts when he got there in a month. They apparently both needed to make themselves available, since—according to him—no other tour guide would do.

"I'm fully aware it will take you twenty minutes to show off your little castle," he'd said, once again poking fun at the fact that Hogwarts was significantly smaller than Beauxbatons. "And I'll bring extra candles because I hear your school's so dark that you can't see anything that's longer than arm's length away."

The news of them leaving must have gotten around somehow, because people were wishing them well and offering them a warm send off. Louis, in particular, received a lot of goodbyes since he'd practically lived there. Random friends of Javier's, including Chloe, came by to wish him well and say that it was nice to meet him, as did a handful of other randoms that Dominique's couldn't name and wasn't sure she'd ever met.

Amalie had come over with a rather friendly smile, one that Louis immediately returned; it gave Dominique a slight pause. She knew that smile, she'd seen many girls throw that one at her brother over the years, but considering the source, this girl was not one she'd anticipated.

"See you when you get to Hogwarts," he'd said in a hopeful sort of tone.

"You will," she said, still smiling. "I'm excited to see if it lives up to the expectations you've set."

There was a shared laugh at that, which made Dominique gawk. She immediately rounded on Javier, across the table, who was staring at Amalie in a funny sort of way. When he finally caught Dominique's eye, she attempted to let her thought scream loud and clear, " _Does she fancy him now?"_

"It seems so…" he said, sounding as if he couldn't believe it either. "At least at a five." He looked back at her. "Well, that's..."

"What. The. Fuck?" she whispered.

"I mean, when he's not being weird, he's pretty charming," Javier offered in an equally low whisper. "He does give her a lot of attention."

"She knows it's not real!" she said through gritted teeth. "She can literally read his mind."

Javier shrugged, laughing for good measure. "Cute boys. They'll ruin us all. What can you do?"

Dominique didn't even know what to say, she just knew she was more than ready to leave for home at this point. She had hoped for a quiet, peaceful breakfast, but that apparently wasn't what she was going to get.

"So, you don't hate him now?" asked Jules rather coldly, having turned up right on the tail end of her goodbye with Louis. She was staring directly at Amalie.

Amalie turned and gave her a sharp look, though it quickly turned rather appraising. Dominique had learned over the last few days that while Javier could read someone effortlessly without his expression changing, Amalie had a very particular look she gave when she was reading someone. And it was currently clear as day that's what she was doing.

"Because you couldn't stand him for the last two months," Jules continued. "But a few quick adjustments and now you're keen. Even when you know none of it's real."

Louis looked confused and Dominique exchanged a quick glance with Javier, both of them wondering where this was headed.

"Hey, Jules, let's not—" Javier began.

"Because none of it's real," Jules repeated.

Louis clearly sensed something was amiss, and now glanced over to Dominique and Javier to see if they had any idea. Both of them shrugged almost too quickly. Amalie, in turn, had looked only slightly perturbed by Jules' presence, and cast her a rather determined stare before saying. "I'll let you say your goodbye, Juliette. Since you'll probably never see him again."

With that, she turned and smiled politely at Dominique, a little more politely at Louis, and wished them both safe travels back to Hogwarts. She even threw in a, "See you very soon," while again throwing Jules a sweeping sort of look.

"Well, then," Javier said as Amalie walked away, stuffing a large bite of croissant into his mouth as he gave Jules a look that Dominique didn't quite understand. At the same time, Timmith had walked into the Dining Chamber, which was Dominique's cue that it was time to go. She kicked Louis under the table, making sure he saw it as well.

"I guess we're off," Dominique said as she started to stand, which Louis was now following suit. Javier stood as well, again wishing them a good trip and mentioning he'd see them soon with all of his candles. Jules was simply standing there watching them, having not spoken since Amalie had left. Louis had stopped and faced her, smiling his perfect smile and seemingly readying himself for a goodbye.

"Uh," Louis said to her. "Well, I actually _do_ hope we do run into each other again. I'd hate for this to be our last conversation after all of the good ones we've had."

She suddenly reached into her bag and started looking for something. "You can always find me if you actually mean that. I'm around."

Louis grinned. "I do mean that," he said as she pulled out a small, red book and proceeded to hand it to him. "You mentioned you'd never read it."

He took it and examined it. Dominique couldn't begin to place the title, but Louis seemed pleasantly surprised. "You found it."

She smiled a little. "Do me a favor and don't read it until you're...away. Not here. Not anywhere near me."

"Read the book?" he asked.

She then suddenly leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "You'll figure it out. Have a good trip." With that, she smiled again, cast Javier a quick look, and then turned and disappeared into the crowd that was now starting to gather as morning classes were set to begin.

Louis turned around and watched her go for a long moment, though he quickly returned to the book. He let it open and began flipping through the pages until he came to the end, where the last few blank pages at the back were covered in handwriting. He'd clearly been left a note. He snapped it shut once he noticed Dominique staring.

She chose to swat him in the chest, seeing that Timmith was now gesturing rather eagerly for them to go. Louis still looked lost to this thoughts, so she pushed him along, muttering, "Just so you're aware, you are _not_ that cute."

Dominique had assumed they were taking a Portkey home, but as it turned out, they were taking the bus back to Hogwarts. It was a wild sort of journey—with it clearly traveling much faster than a regular bus, as it weaved and cut through traffic in an almost invisible, untraceable sort of way—though it did take most of the day to get back to school. By the time the bus pulled up into Hogsmeade, evening was already falling upon the sky.

They said their goodbyes to Timmith, and Louis had been right in saying he would grow on her. He'd taught her so much in terms of schoolwork in the last two weeks, though whether that was him or her new ability to comprehend, she wasn't entirely sure. Either way, she had come back to Hogwarts caught up in her schoolwork and now understanding so many of the concepts that had eluded her for ages.

Timmith claimed he'd be around for the final task and wished them luck in their endeavors. "I do hope you get back to where you want to be," he concluded, before vanishing off with the bus.

McGonagall had been there to greet them at the gates, smiling warmly as they approached. Dominique looked up at Hogwarts—it was silhouetted against the sunset—and she couldn't help but feel happy that she'd gotten to call this castle home for the last seven years. It would be ending soon, but she would never have traded it, even for Beauxbatons and it's posh Quidditch stadium and well lit rooms. She was happy to have a few more months to call it home.

"Welcome back," McGonagall said to them, having eventually led them straight to her office. It was there that they found Professor Longbottom, who was also beaming happily to see the pair of them. He immediately went into how great it was to have them both home and how missed they'd been.

"Things just aren't the same without the two of you around," he'd said as they'd taken seats in front of McGonagall's desk. "It's a lot quieter."

"He's talking about you," Louis said to her. She chose not to dignify that with a response.

McGonagall had them debrief her about everything that had happened from their perspective. She'd heard reports from Timmith and Madame Maxime, as well as bits and pieces from Professor DiSilva, but she didn't quite understand. She was concerned about what they had experienced and what they were feeling. How did they expect things to go from here forward? What were their concerns?

Louis did most of the talking, as he generally did in situations like this. Dominique listened as he explained the large and small differences in their personalities and skills now; how it had been affecting them and how he was handing it. Dominique would chime in from time to time to either agree or elaborate on a point he'd made, but for the most part, he had the story down pat. She neglected to mention anything about Louis' love spell, seeing as Louis was sitting directly beside her, but she was sure she'd have a moment later on to bring it up.

McGonagall had sat there with an unreadable expression, listening intently; Longbottom seemed rather concerned when he heard the actual details of how much had changed between them. He looked as if he had a lot of questions.

"But this potion seems to be helping," Louis offered once he'd reached the end of his story and looked at Dominique to confirm. She nodded automatically, fearing someone would call her out lying. It was only then that she realized she was back in a room full of people who could not read her mind. She was free to think whatever she wanted once more.

"Yes, Professor DiSilva had sent information over in his notes," McGonagall was saying, looking over a piece of parchment she had in front of her. "This is a very old potion. The ingredients are more in line with ancient potions work; things we don't often use these days. Professor, what do you...?"

She'd handed the paper off to Longbottom, who scanned it with his eyebrow immediately raised. "Yes, much of this is..." He seemed confused. "Wait, you say this has been helping you?"

Louis shrugged as if to say yes; Dominique said nothing, once again happy no one could read her mind.

"Because I've done my fair share of research into the healing power of plants in relation to spell damage and this..." He screwed up his face. "This isn't something I've come across."

"It is curious he came up with this in particular," McGonagall said, taking the parchment back, "but if you claim that it helps..." She turned back to Longbottom. "I assume we have much of the necessary herbs?"

He was nodding, though something apparently wasn't sitting right with him. He seemed very lost in thought.

"Then I will ask Professor Holt to make the proper arrangements to have to have it brewed," McGonagall continued, setting the parchment aside and glancing back that the both of them. "And while I understand things haven't been rectified completely, and how frustrating that must be for the both of you, I did feel it was important for to come back to Hogwarts. Your parents agreed, and I feel it needs to be said that Professor DiSilva is not the only capable wizard who may be able to do something about this. He's had his time and..." Her expression pinched. "Well, let's just say we have our fair share of Legilimens here in Britain who may be able to be of service. You may be asked to see and visit with some in the coming days, if you'll permit them."

Louis sighed. Dominique already knew that he was beyond tired of having people poking around in his head. She was too, but again, she felt she had more to lose by things not working themselves out. If she couldn't fly any longer, Quidditch for her was done; it was now nothing more than a hobby. For Louis—as Timmith crudely pointed out that first day she'd met him—he was still more clever than the average wizard based on his past learned knowledge. Just because he couldn't learn more at record speed, didn't mean that he wouldn't be well off if he continued on. It was unfortunate, but it didn't ruin his life. She still wanted things fixed.

They were in McGonagall's office for over an hour, until Longbottom mentioned that they probably wanted to unwind and get settled. "You can make it to the end of dinner if you head down to the Great Hall now. I'll be happy to walk with you."

He did just that, giving Louis small updates on the school and how whenever he was ready to reassume his Head Boy duties, they were waiting for him. Louis seemed completely keen on throwing himself back into things and was ready to start as soon as the next day. Longbottom said he'd speak to Lira Chin and Ansel Baileymoore as soon as possible and that they could get him caught up.

In turn, Longbottom reminded Dominique that the Gryffindor Quidditch team had beaten Ravenclaw; that James Potter had filled in as Seeker in her absence and had done a terrific job. "Though, I'm sure they'll be happy to have you back for their match against Slytherin next week."

Dominique said nothing to that as they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Louis had mentioned her poor flying skills in their meeting minutes before, but it seemed Longbottom had already forgotten. Perhaps that was because she and Quidditch were such a package deal that there really wasn't any way to separate the two. That was entirely who she was. She had no idea what she was going to do now, let alone how to tell people.

"Password to Gryffindor Tower is currently 'Fizzing Whizbees'," Longbottom said lastly, smiling at the pair of them. "Now go and get some dinner and relax. I know there are loads of people who have been asking me daily about your status and would love to see you."

With that, he departed and Dominique glanced into the Great Hall. It was half full now, seeing as many people had probably already come and gone for dinner. She and Louis were going to stick out like sore thumbs as they walked across the room to the Gryffindor table, but she quickly found herself not caring about the randoms in the room who would point and stare. This was especially true once her eyes settled on a spot near the end of the table. It was there that Sarah, Flynn, and Natalie were sitting and eating. No Jack, she noticed, but he had to be around somewhere.

Louis glanced over to her. "We should probably talk about how we're going to do this. Talk to people about the memories we can see, I mean. Especially Jack. You need to figure out how to tell Sarah."

"I think we should tell them together. This affects all of us."

"Sarah doesn't want to talk to me." He made a face. "I can see it in your memories. She hates me."

"Then she won't talk to you, but she'll still have to listen." She glanced across the room again. "I don't have the energy to tell this story over and over again. I say we sit them down as a group and do it."

Louis didn't seem entirely keen on that, though Dominique's attention was diverted at that moment to the noise of the castle's doors opening nearby at the entrance. She shrugged it off, again focusing on his brother as another thought suddenly came popping up in her head. "And do not, under any circumstances, go running your mouth to Jack about how you think I feel about him."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Can I get back on speaking terms with him before we deal with that? We just got here." She paused for a moment. "Can you also not mention anything about my flying struggles to anyone?"

He quickly agreed to that, though he felt the need to mention, "You don't think they'll figure that out when they see you out there on the pitch?"

"There's a chance that on my own broom and in a familiar place that I can…" She shrugged, not wanting to finish that sentence and get her hopes up. "I want to try a few things before I tell people. Alright?"

"You secret's safe with me," Louis offered. "At least that one is. Not making any promises on the Jack one."

She glared at him, noticing then that her Quidditch team—most of them, at least—had been the source of the noise she'd heard earlier by the doors. They were probably returning from practice; from the looks on their faces, they had now discovered she and Louis standing just beyond the entrance to the Great Hall.

"They're back!" shouted James, and while she saw a lot of surprised and happy faces, no one was more enthusiastic than him. He immediately came jogging over, a silly smile on his face that he aimed at both of them. "What happened? Where have you been?"

"I heard a rumor they were holding you hostage in exchange for gold," Tommy said as Kenley and Alice came up behind him. Even the alternate, a fifth-year named Rory, had come over with a curious smile. The only people missing were Jack and Eatins, and she had to assume they'd stayed behind to lock and clean up.

"Gold?" Louis asked, throwing Tommy a strange look. "Who told you that?"

"There have been some very strange rumors going around," Kenley said, vouching for Tommy's claim. "No one's gotten a straight story. We only know that something happened and required you both to stay longer."

"That's not...untrue," Dominique said, glancing at Louis. "But it wasn't anything interesting. We only had to work some things out."

"Did you work them out, then?" James asked.

She and Louis both made noises that sounded like, "Errr…" as they stared at each other. It was clear that neither of them wanted to elaborate—at least not to the masses—so they were going to have come up with some sort of story. It was Louis who finally said, "Sort of."

"Well, I'm glad you're back," Tommy said to Dominique. " _Someone's_ been getting a little too comfortable with his new Seeker responsibilities."

"Am not," James said, flipping Tommy off. "I did what I had to do." He turned to smile at Dominique. "Sure you heard, but we beat Ravenclaw."

The rest of the team suddenly all began speaking at once at that; each of them immediately excited and recounting their own version of how amazing the match had been and how she should have been there. It apparently couldn't have gone better; everyone played their absolute best. It was James' voice that carried as he blurted out, "I beat Giggleswick. He didn't even know what hit him!"

Dominique had been about to commend him for his efforts, but not before Tommy felt the need to quip, "It was a well aimed Bludger to the shoulder. That's what hit him." He took a small bow. "You're welcome."

"Well, I still out flew and outraced him," James said.

"After the Bludger slowed him down."

"You're seriously trying to take credit?" James asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Alright, alright," Kenley said, putting her hands up to silence the both of them. "It was a team effort, but yes—" She looked at Dominique, "Potter caught the Snitch. And for the record, Jack has not stopped telling Giggleswick every chance he gets that he got beaten by a fourth-year."

She immediately grinned as the rest of the team all broke into mixed laughter. Tommy added, "That's true. You should see how annoyed he gets."

"Notice he's telling people that the fourth-year beat him," James said in a lofty sort of way. "Not the sixth-year Beater, which goes to show you that I—"

"I'm about to beat a fourth-year right now," Tommy muttered, his brow furrowed at James. "I don't care who your father is."

Once again, Kenley had to settle them all down as they stuck around just long enough to chat for a few more minutes; catching Dominique up on the impending Slytherin match and other random Quidditch news. Eventually they started to peel away to go and eat dinner one by one—all of them claiming they were happy she was back, until James was the only one who remained.

He'd begun giving a detailed, incredibly descriptive account of how he beat Giggleswick to the Snitch when the sound of the castle doors opening and closing once again caught Dominique's attention.

Jack and Eatins had entered, neither any the wiser as to the fact that both Louis and Dominique were watching them get closer and closer. They looked to be deeply involved in whatever it was they were talking about.

Louis turned to her with a funny sort of smile, as if he was suddenly quite amused. "Here we go."

"Piss off," she whispered back, now standing up straighter and feeling her heartbeat start to pick up the pace.

"You know, I just had the most adorable memory of you being all excited to dance with him at the Christmas Party pop up," he teased, attempting to hide his laughter. "You were so bloody excited."

"I just had a Christmas Party memory pop up as well," she said, mocking the same tone he'd just used. "The one where you made Sarah cry up on the Astronomy Tower. Remember that? Shall we compare?"

The amusement in his face faltered and he instead rolled his eyes. He immediately turned his attention back onto Jack.

Just seeing Jack walking toward them, completely unaware, made something in her stomach clench. She almost wanted to run and hide; pretend as if she hadn't been here at all. But it was only a matter of seconds before he knew she was back. Even if she did dart into the Great Hall, she couldn't avoid this much longer.

But another, much larger, part of her didn't want to run—at least not away from him. She actually wanted to run up and wrap her arms around him and kiss his impossibly adorable face—in all of it's sweaty, sexy, post-Quidditch practice glory. It wasn't until she saw him that she realized how much she missed him. She'd been preoccupied in Beauxbatons; distracted to the point where the thoughts of him weren't painful, but rather she simply missed him being around. She didn't care about the petty shit anymore. She just wanted things back the way they used to be.

"Hey!" James called over in a way only her kid cousin could. "Look who's back!"

Jack and Eatins both looked at the sound of James' voice. Dominique had no idea how Eatins reacted because her attention was solely on Jack. He looked...well, he looked like a lot of things; she managed to pick out surprise, disbelief, and excitement straight away. He'd stopped in his tracks, his eyes now darting back and forth between her and Louis. He'd clearly been startled, but it seemed in a good way.

Louis was still looking more amused than he should be. She ignored him and told herself to remember to react and smile once she realized she'd been actually staring rather nervously at Jack. She was both elated and terrified, which was the oddest combination of emotions.

"You're back," Jack said, smiling as he closed the gap between them. "You're finally back."

Louis nudged her. In a tone barely above a whisper he mumbled, "Go hug him."

"What? Last we spoke we were fighting. I don't even know if he's still—"

" _He-doesn't-care-just-do-it,_ " Louis spat in his low whisper, his eyes wide and urging. He'd been standing between them as Jack approached, but he—like a complete goon—purposefully sidestepped her to put her first. He said something under his breath along the lines of, "You two should go first," that she didn't think Jack caught, but it didn't matter. At that point, he was standing there and she had to react.

"Hi," she said awkwardly, hesitating briefly before she ultimately did open her arms and step toward him. For a few vulnerable seconds, she felt like the biggest fool in the world standing there, but Jack had immediately returned the gesture. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and actually picked her up a bit off the ground in a playful hug, forcing her to tighten her grip on him.

As soon as they were touching, she realized Louis was right. He didn't care and she didn't care. She may not be aware of where to go from here, but at this minute they were good. They were perfect. In those few brief moments before he put her back down and let go, she soaked in how much he smelled like Quidditch and sweat and...him. It made her feel stupidly happy. She didn't want to use the word 'love' since Louis had gone and put ideas in her head, but she truly did love the smell of him.

He set her back down and went to greet Louis as well. "When did you two—?"

"About an hour ago," Louis said, smiling. "Had to talk to McGonagall for awhile."

"We were just set free," she said, throwing a friendly smile at Eatins before turning back to Jack. "Heard Quidditch is going well."

"We beat Ravenclaw, so yeah." He nodded at James. "Potter's been the Seeker. He's been filling in for you."

"I've heard. He's apparently been doing well."

"He's alright," Jack joked, smiling from him to her. "I'd prefer to have you out there." He suddenly turned to Louis, who was doing nothing more than smirking at him. Dominique could already see the gears turning in his head to make a bigger deal out of this than he needed to.

It wasn't until Jack playfully shoved him and said, "I genuinely feel as if I haven't seen you in years, mate. You've probably got a hundred stories."

"Perhaps a few, yeah," he said before he walked over and put his arm around Jack, still smirking and now patting him rather aggressively. "You and I are overdue for a proper chat."

"We definitely are," Jack said, seemingly confused as to why he was patting him so hard, but choosing to ignore it. "They barely told us anything back here. Can't understand why it's such a secret."

"Oh, sure," Louis said, catching Dominique's eye. "Yeah, Nic and I plan on telling you the whole story, but I wasn't talking about that—"

"You are back!" yelled a voice, and Dominique turned to find that Sarah had emerged from the Great Hall. She immediately had an ear to ear grin on her face as she rushed forward—blowing straight past Louis without so much as a glance—and threw her arms around Dominique, practically tackling her to the ground. "How long have you been back? Tommy and Kenley were telling everyone you were out here."

"Just a bit," Dominique said, immediately fighting off a random memory of Louis and Sarah in happier times that attempted to flood her thoughts.

"Come and sit, then," she said, still smiling at her. "You can tell us everything. No one seemed to know what kept you. Even Zara only said there had been an issue that they needed to sort out, but that you were gone much longer than you should have been."

Dominique found it strange that Zara hadn't informed the whole school in complete detail, but there must have been a reason for that. Maybe instructions from McGonagall? Zara was pitiful with secrets, so it had to be something.

It was then that Sarah let her gaze inevitably settle on Louis. His body language suddenly became awkward and a bit rigid, but he forced a rather timid smile. "Hi, Sarah."

She gave him a once over, but didn't so much as crack a polite smile. "Guess you're back as well."

He let himself take a deep breath. "Good to see you, too."

Dominique held up her hand as if to signal for a cease fire. She wasn't in the mood for any of it. She realized then that this was the first time since the famous Christmas party that all four of them had been together. What had once been a staple in her life—these other three people always being around—was now as rare as a unicorn sighting. The dynamic was entirely different and uncomfortable, but it didn't change that both Sarah and Jack now had to hear the truth about what had happened; what she and Louis's minds were now privy to.

"We need to talk to both of you."

Sarah looked confused, though Jack seemed keen. He clearly had no idea what was coming as the group began walking into the Great Hall, him randomly chatting with Louis as they went. Sarah had hung back to talk to Dominique, quickly asking, "All of us have to talk?"

"Yes, because we're only telling this story one more time," Dominique said matter-of-factly, observing that the people in the Great Hall still hadn't noticed her or Louis; they were mostly caught up in their own worlds and conversations. "Sarah, I have so much to tell you."

They'd all made it across the room without causing much of a stir until they'd reached Gryffindor table. It was here that heads were now rounding on them as if Harry Potter himself had wandered in. Albus Potter slopped pumpkin juice down the front of his robes upon noticing them and Rosie Weasley, who'd swung around in her seat at rapid speed was already jumping up and rushing to greet them. She flung her arms around Louis first before breaking away to do the same to Dominique.

They'd caught the room's attention now, with people turning in their seats at the other tables and a very particular kind of chatter filling the air. As they stood greeting cousins—Freddie had joined the mix, his arms wrapped tightly around Louis' waist as he hung off of him—Dominique chanced a look down the length of the table to where Flynn, Natalie, and Eleanor were watching and waving.

Louis peeled Freddie off, all while Dominique said their obligatory hellos and gave their quick, pinched answers as to where they'd been and why they hadn't returned sooner. They eventually made their way down to where everyone was sitting; where they now had to greet Flynn and the others. Louis was doing a quick catch up with Flynn, as Jack and Sarah took one side of the table. That meant she and Louis would find themselves directly across from them. Terrific. They could now look them in the eyes when they delivered the news that their minds were filled with private moments neither wished other people to see.

"Hey," she said quickly to Jack, while Louis was wrapping up with Flynn. "He knows."

Jack smiled a little, clearly not aware of what that had meant. Beside him, Sarah's brow furrowed in a curious manner. "Who knows?"

She lowered her voice. "Louis knows about...everything." She gestured between them. "Literally everything."

The smile fell off Jack's face. Sarah inhaled rather sharply before whispering, "You actually told him?"

Dominique shook her head. "Not exactly. It's more complicated than that. But he's not upset," she said, watching as Jack was now watching Louis rather carefully. He seemed immediately tense. Sarah looked as if she were about to ask something else, but at the same moment, Louis turned to address the rest of them.

"Alright, so I'll tell this," he said to everyone, as if preparing for a speech, "but let's save questions for the end, shall we?"

It had already been established that he was the designated storyteller of their twosome, and Dominique threw him a nod before he immediately launched into everything they'd agreed to discuss. He was very thorough and detailed—starting way back with the day of the task—and once he finished after roughly five straight minutes, he took a deep breath and finally motioned for everyone else to speak.

It was Flynn who spoke the obvious. "What the fuck...?"

"Yeah, it's a bit hard to understand," Dominique said. "But basically, I've picked up habits and quirks from Louis and he's picked up some of mine. We're still not sure of the extent of the spell damage, but it's not as if we've swapped personalities."

"Yeah, we're still us."

"Mostly," she said.

"Just...different."

"But only parts of us."

Everyone was staring at them as if they'd gone mental, though no one looked as confused as Sarah. They all clearly had questions, though Dominique could see how actually asking them may have been more difficult than not. Across from her, Jack still looked uncomfortable.

"So," Flynn finally said, speaking first. "When you say they need to fix it, you mean they need to set you back right?"

"Yes," Louis said; Dominique nodded.

"And if they don't?"

She and Louis shared a quick look. "Well, they've got us on this potion that's supposed to help and it seems to be helping so far, but…" He shrugged. "If it doesn't, then this is the new us. Good and the bad."

"But what exactly have you swapped?" Sarah asked.

Louis was looking at Dominique. It was hard to verbalize, especially since so much had yet to be realized; then the other parts, like the flying, Dominique wasn't ready to share. "Well, for starters," she began. "I can dream now, if you want to call it that. I get these really weird visions at night that I never used to get. Makes my sleep shit."

"Wait," Sarah said, glancing from Dominique to Louis and back again. "You don't have his night terrors do you?"

Even Flynn and Natalie were making faces at that. Almost every single person sitting there had shared a bed or room with Louis at some point and had seen how bad his nightmares could truly be. None of them looked as if they would have wished that on anyone.

"Too early to say," Dominique said quietly, avoiding everyone's gaze. "Right now, I can just dream."

"And I don't dream anymore," Louis offered. "Even without my potions. I sleep like a baby."

"I'm really good at school now," Dominique quipped, wanting to not be entirely pitied at that moment. "My brain allows me to learn and understand more readily than I ever could before. I read stuff and it sticks."

"Seriously?" Sarah asked.

She nodded. "I'm actually ahead in my classes. Everything I read sort of stays put now." She gestured to Louis. "He struggles."

"I don't struggle," Louis said. "It's just not as easy as it used to be. I'm fine, though. It's no big deal. I'll be fine." He suddenly looked up at the ceiling and started scanning it.

"Shit," Flynn mumbled as everyone stared at them; a strange silence now filling the void. No one seemed to know what to say.

"Is that it?" Sarah asked finally.

Louis and Dominique exchanged another look, before he added, "There's definitely more, but every day we're starting to learn new stuff; things get stronger or weaker. It's weird. I think I can speak for both of us when I say it's hard to talk about."

"But they're going to fix it, right?" Natalie asked.

"We hope so," Dominique said with a heavy sigh. "But it's spell damage, so…" She shrugged as if to say ' _who knows?_ ' Because that was the truth. Who knew what was in store for them.

"And then there's one other thing," Louis said. "It's the one that affects..." He looked across the table to Jack and Sarah before chancing another look at Dominique. He seemed to be making sure she was ready. When she nodded, he added, "Nic and I had each other's memories placed into the other's head."

"What's that mean?" Flynn asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between them.

"He can see the memories I've chosen to remember and I can see his," Dominique said, looking directly into Jack's eyes as she said it. "Which means—"

"It means," Louis said to Jack, grinning across the table as he pulled out his wand and started playing with it. "I should curse you where you sit. My sister?"

Jack, who hadn't spoken a single word since her admission earlier on, suddenly looked petrified to the spot. Everyone at the table slowly started to chance a glance at him. It was almost as if someone had inserted a metal rod into his back with as rigid as he was now sitting. He still refused to speak, but didn't take his eyes off of Louis for even a second. He didn't seem to know what to say or what to do.

"So, let me get this straight," Flynn asked. "You can see her memories? As in, if the two of them—" He obnoxiously pointed between she and Jack, "were off having sex somewhere—"

"Fuck, Flynn," Dominique muttered, glaring at him. "Seriously?"

"—you can actually see that?"

Louis was cringing, as if something had flashed before him. "I can see all of it. Anything she's deemed important enough to remember. With Jack here, that seems to be a lot."

Dominique elbowed him hard in the side. He reacted slightly, but it didn't stop him. "Some time spent together on New Year's Eve in my house, for example."

Jack closed his eyes. He looked a little red.

"An impressive snog after the Christmas Party when I was asleep in the same room—"

"Oh, shit," Flynn said, giggling like a child as if this were all very funny. Natalie's jaw dropped and Sarah looked embarrassed for everyone. Jack said absolutely nothing; he just opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. He'd probably kill for an invisibility spell about now.

Dominique had had enough of this and swatted her brother to get him to lay off. "He's not angry," she said, watching as Jack slowly looked at her. He didn't look any less embarrassed, but he had glanced over to Louis who was now unable to hide his laughter any longer. She swatted him again. "Stop laughing."

"She's right, I'm not really," Louis said, his laughter tapering. "I'm scarred for fucking life, and we still need to have a chat, but...yeah. Whatever." He shrugged.

Jack's silence was rather deafening. When he shut down, he truly shut down. He glanced back at Dominique and she couldn't tell if he was angry with her for allowing this to happen or he was looking for an ally since they were both stuck in this together. She smiled meekly at him. "You're reacting better than I did."

"Wait," Sarah said, sitting up straighter and looking at Dominique. "He can see your memories and you can see his?"

She nodded.

"Which means…?"

She nodded.

"So, the stuff he and I did?" She made a face. "The _private_ stuff? You can see that?"

"Didn't we just establish that's exactly what's happened?" Flynn said in an obvious fashion. "If he can see hers, she can see his. She can see your sexy times."

Dominique suddenly felt a flash of one coming on just then as he mentioned that, but she immediately shook it off. All she managed to say was, "You're very adventurous."

Flynn fell into absolute hysterics while Sarah turned bright red and glared at Louis. Unlike Jack's confusion, it was clear that Sarah was ready to blame all of this on him. He, in turn, immediately went on the defensive.

"Yes, because I did it on purpose," he said sarcastically.

Sarah slumped down in her seat, her face redder than Dominique had ever seen it. Flynn was still laughing as if this was one of the most hilarious things he'd ever heard. From beside him, Natalie suddenly seemed concerned as she leaned forward and asked, "Did you see anything with me?"

A flash. The boys' room. Natalie was naked and Louis was about to put…Dominique immediately shook it off, though she'd gotten a strong rush of excitement and arousal she had to assume she'd just nearly witness her brother losing his virginity. Gross.

"I hadn't until you said that," she muttered.

"Shit," Flynn asked, the only person having a good time. "It just happened? Just like that, you saw…?" He laughed again. "That's hilarious. Truly hilarious." Natalie did not look the least bit amused.

"Couldn't they just do a memory charm on you?" Sarah asked, sounding irritated. "Wipe all of that from your heads? Seems as if someone should be capable of that."

"If it were that easy," Louis said. "Don't you think they would have done it?"

She glared at him.

"They looked into it, but it runs the risk of wiping all of our memories or something like that," Dominique said, looking down and realizing that she hadn't touched any of her dinner. "Our heads are apparently a scary place right now. We're just hoping it gets worked out because, thanks to Louis, I have images of every single one of you stark naked imprinted into my brain."

"Well, they're not all on me," Louis quipped. "You earned one of them on your own." He glanced over at Jack, who Dominique noticed had pulled the hood up on his sweatshirt and was apparently hiding.

"Why do you have images of Flynn starkers in your head?" Natalie asked suddenly.

"Because you can't live with Flynn for more than a week and not see him walking around naked," Louis said.

"And you're welcome for it," Flynn said, picking up his glass of water and offering a toast. No one followed suit.


	9. Warp the Wood

A/N: It's been a day, so I've only got one chapter (and I'm barely getting this one up!) but we'll be back to two tomorrow. The next two should go together anyway. As always, many thanks to everyone taking the time to hang out and read this wacky journey of mine. :)

* * *

To say the days following their arrival home were awkward was an understatement. No one seemed to know what to say to each other—least of all to her and Louis. Sarah, who wasn't speaking to Louis anyway, now had even less of a reason to; she seemed to blame him almost entirely for letting all of this happen, despite knowing that it wasn't his fault.

"If it makes you feel any better, I've gotten really good at pushing the unwanted memories out of my head," Dominique had told Sarah as they walked the edge of the lake one afternoon. She'd been home for two days, and this was the first time Sarah could bring herself to really talk to her. Sarah had told her night she and Louis had made their confession that, while she understood it was beyond her control, it still didn't make her feel any less embarrassed to know that she could see everything. She'd been upfront about needing to take some time to process everything.

Dominique had given her space; Natalie, too, since she also seemed to be stung at being rather exposed. While Dominique could understand their feelings—she found to be a bit of an overreaction on Natalie's part. Outside of the night Louis lost his virginity to her, most of their memories were practically forgotten and barely discernible. Still, they felt what they felt; she wasn't about to tell them otherwise.

But Sarah had caught her after their last class of the day and asked if she wanted to talk; the two of them finding themselves strolling down by the lake shore. As it were, Dominique had no desire to talk about these memories or herself at all; she was still bursting at the seams to tell Sarah all about Louis' love spell and everything that had happened since.

She'd felt as if she'd talked for ages, all while Sarah silently listened and barely let her gaze leave the stones they were treading across. She hadn't reacted whatsoever—no shock, no surprise, no anger, no questions. In fact, at one point Dominique found herself questioning whether or not she was even listening. She was, of course, and Dominique could see that the second she looked at her. She was listening to every word.

When she finished talking, she'd actually stopped to face Sarah and force the conversation. She had to say something; she had to have some thoughts on the matter.

Her voice was hollow when she finally spoke. "He lied about cheating on me."

Dominique nodded. "Yes, but he's been terribly confused. None of it was his fault."

Sarah's eyebrow rose. "How was it not his fault?"

"Because…" Dominique stared blankly at her. Had she not been listening after all? "...he's under a love spell."

"Which you said is only triggered when the French girl is around. Or when someone brought her up."

"Right."

"Well, she wasn't around when he was avoiding me once he got back from Durmstrang," Sarah said matter-of-factly. "According to you, then he should have been back to normal. No one was talking about her the night we split up, the night he lied to me. That was all on him. He made the choice to act that way and apparently lie about it. If the spell only affects him when she's a factor, then why was he still being a dick when she wasn't around?"

"I mean…" Dominique had to admit that was a fair question. "It's entirely possible someone brought her up at that Christmas Party given everything that…"

Sarah sighed heavily, her head already shaking. "Nic, I understand you'll defend him to the ends of the Earth and I've learned to accept that, but I'm done caring when it comes to him."

"I just assumed you'd want to know it wasn't…" She trailed off, "That is to say there was an explanation."

"Explanations may make things make more sense, but they don't always make things better."

With that, she turned away. Dominique watched her as she walked off, quickly calling after her, "Sarah, only you and I know about this. The love spell stuff. He can't find out because he'll stop taking that potion he needs if he knows what it's really for. I know you don't owe him any favors, but—for me—can you not mention anything to him?"

Sarah laughed a little as she turned and looked back at her. "You don't have to worry about me saying _anything_ to Louis. That, I can promise."

They didn't speak about it after that, which was fine by Dominique. She wanted to return to a life that was free of love spells and spell damage, and was happy for Sarah to fill her in on the happenings around school while she'd been gone. Apparently, Natalie's interest in Flynn seemed to be waning, which Natalie wouldn't admit but it was rather obvious to anyone who paid attention. She'd apparently gotten wind about the truth behind her Valentine's flowers, and that had been a fairly heavy strike. Every little thing about him since then seemed to be annoying her.

Sarah talked of other random gossip—post Valentine's fall outs and a story that had made the rounds of the school when Filch apparently caught two fifth-year Slytherins engaging in some very risque behavior down near the dungeons. Then, Lira Chin was telling anyone who would listen that she was ready to curse Ansel Baileymoore into the ground due to her frustrations with his definition of what their duties as Heads entailed, though Eleanor oddly felt the need to constantly argue with her about it. That had caused some minor drama, but outside of that, things had been mostly quiet. It seemed she and Louis' disappearance was the topic people were most curious about.

"I swear, every day, Jack and I took turns going to Longbottom and asking where you two were," she said, though she quickly added, "Well, I asked where _you_ were. Jack was asking about both of you."

Dominique picked up a stone and tossed it into the lake. "I'm a bit surprised about Jack. I'd honestly assumed he'd have been angry with me."

Sarah threw her a look. "Even if he was, you disappeared for weeks. Weeks where we didn't know if something had happened to you. Stupid rows over lipstick seem to get lost when you're worried something awful had happened."

Dominique grinned a little. "I don't even know what to say to him. I don't even know if there's anything to say. If he even still cares."

"Well," Sarah said. "I will tell you this little story that happened while you were gone. One night, not long after you'd gone, Jack and I were sitting around in the common room doing work, and Fee came up, red in the face and looking completely nervous. When I asked her what was wrong, she was stumbling over her words, but eventually asked if the rumors were true. If Jack fancied you and that you two were together."

"That's random," Dominique muttered, tossing another stone in the lake.

"Found out later it was a dare from her friends to go and ask him that," Sarah said. "Don't know if you knew, but she's had this little crush on Jack for ages, and I guess her friends were…I don't know, feeling him out? They're second-years. It makes sense to them. Doesn't matter that he's eighteen to her thirteen."

Dominique laughed a little, though the irony of a thirteen-year-old making bolder moves than she was currently was not lost on her.

"Anyway, Jack was confused by the question, but his answer was rather telling."

She stopped throwing stones to look at her. "What did he say?"

"He said that the rumors were half true. That was all he could say before Fee blushed even worse and retreated immediately back to her giggling friends." She stared over at Dominique. "And that was a week ago, so it seems you're both still in it. You should really talk."

Dominique looked back out at the lake. That was easier said than done, seeing as she'd barely seen Jack the last two days. Louis had said Jack was avoiding him and that he wouldn't even look him in the eye or stand in the same room as him for more than a few seconds. He'd apparently been attempting to get Jack to sit and have a proper chat with him, but it had taken him days to do so.

Louis refused to divulge what they'd discussed, he did report back that after a good hour and a half talk that they were "cool" now and that they'd sorted things out.

"But did you tell him?" Dominique asked, having cornered Louis outside the common room before dinner.

"Tell him what?" he asked, faking oblivious.

She could curse him where he stood. "Louis. What did you say to him? I have a right to know if you told him about...things."

"You have a right to know…" he muttered, laughing to himself. "You've got every private moment and conversation I've ever had at your disposal and you still want more. That's rich."

"When it concerns me, I should be allowed to—!"

"I didn't tell him!" Louis said in a loud tone, looking her straight in the eyes. "You asked me not to and I didn't. Fuck. Have a little faith in me."

She got out of his face and let her volume return to normal, though she found it hard to believe that it wouldn't have come up somehow. Why he felt the need to keep it such a bloody secret was beyond her. "I just don't see why you won't tell me what you two talked about."

"Because it's none of your business." he said obviously, turning to walk through the portrait hole. Before he did however, he stopped and rounded back on her. "Though, I will say one thing that came up."

She inhaled slowly and held her breath.

"I backed up your story about what happened with Davies at the Ministry. Told him that from what I could see, you were telling him to fuck off and that you wanted nothing to do with him. That you truly are over him."

She exhaled just as slowly. "You told him that?"

He nodded. "Though, I would have told him that even if I hadn't seen it." When she started curiously back at him, he added, "Because I want Davies gone for good." He shrugged. "You're welcome."

She apparently wasn't going to find out whatever the two of them discussed, but whatever it was had clearly turned Jack's attitude about this entire situation around. He'd gone from silent and locked up like a vault to back to normal overnight. He and Louis and Flynn were laughing like the old days on the sofa that very evening, and he'd even shown throughout the day that there was no real awkwardness between the two of them. He'd smiled and made small talk with her in Transfiguration, and afterwards reminded her that there would be Quidditch practice that evening.

"Slytherin's in a few days," he said to her as they left class, him heading in one direction and her another. "And while I'm not worried about it, I know you like to take a few days to get back into the swing of things. Did you even manage to get on a broom while you were in France?"

"Um, once," she said, avoiding his eyes.

He smiled a little. "You were probably going mental." He pointed behind him. "I'm this way, but I'll see you at practice." He left with a quick wave before disappearing around a corner.

She watched him go, letting herself thump against the nearest wall in a defeated sort of way. She couldn't go to practice. There was no way she could turn up and have everyone see her fall apart. She hadn't even made it onto a broom yet since she'd been back. She'd been terrified to see what might happen.

She'd blown off practice that night, already having laid all the seeds for an upset stomach after dinner to anyone who would listen to her. She was sure Jack and the rest of her team would have questions, but she had planned to hide in her room and go to sleep early if anyone asked. She needed to get a good night's rest since she had plans for the early morning—earlier than she was used to rising.

She tried to look on the bright side as she walked down to the pitch at dawn the following morning; once the first traces of daylight touched the sky. She had every intention of taking her broom out for a spin since flying by herself on a clear day was one of the quickest ways to ensure a good mood out of her.

While she knew it wasn't going to be her usual routine, it had to be similar. The feeling of being alone on a broom in the open air couldn't be lost because she was having a few issues. And for all she knew, this would all prove to be one large misunderstanding. Perhaps it really had been the LightSpeed broom that had caused her issues. She had her broom now—her baby. They had a connection.

In the shadow of the sunrise, she made her way into the changing rooms to get her hands on her broom. If she was still as bad as she'd been at Beauxbatons, then her plan was to do this everyday, all while attempting to blow off Quidditch practice for the time being. If she had to, she would talk to Jack about using James as a Seeker against Slytherin. That had been his original plan, since he didn't know if she would be back from France yet; it wasn't even much of a shake up. Not to mention Slytherin was terrible this season, so they didn't even need her. It would be fine. If she had to, she would talk to him and let him know she just wasn't ready.

As she retrieved her broom and walked it out onto the pitch, she was feeling oddly confident that this would all work itself out. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually. She was determined and this was a setback.

She took her broom in her hands, immediately comforted by how the grip was familiar and comfortable. Mounting it and taking off provided a bit of a challenge, but once she'd managed to it, she felt ok. Perhaps she was kidding herself, but she did better on her own broom now that she had it back.

She attempted to execute the skills she knew in her head were correct, but for some reason her instincts weren't following along. She was struggling to multitask while keeping her broom level and building speed. If she couldn't even handle the two most basic elements of flying, how was she supposed to seek and catch a Snitch?

She landed hard and awkwardly after a particularly difficult lap—one where she'd unsuccessfully attempted to fly one handed as if mimicking reaching out for a Snitch—and cursed loudly out of frustration when she couldn't do it. Why was this happening to her? She could do this. She knew she could. A part of her wondered what was the point; she was never going to get back to where she'd been before by the end of term. She was flying like a first-year who—maybe with enough work and time—could perhaps make the house team by fourth or fifth year.

She threw her broom onto the ground in a huff, feeling rather betrayed by it. Her former self would have never done that. Her broom was her most prized possession; she loved it and usually took such great care of it. To see it thrown to the ground like old laundry really made her realize how much of a toll this was taking on her. But she couldn't help it. A part of her blamed her broom for all of this. Everything else was beyond her control, but her broom was supposed to be on her side. It was supposed to have fixed everything.

"Nic," came a voice that caused her to practically jump out of her skin. She had spun around to see Jack standing about ten yards away, looking as if he was either coming from or going to have a run. She hadn't heard him approach. "What are you…?" Why are you up so early?"

"I don't sleep as much as I used to," she said, which was true given her nights were now filled with strange, confusing images and restless tossing and turning. "You're up early, too."

"I'm always up early," he said as he approached her. "Since the weather's gotten less cold, I've been trying to run again. Are you feeling better?"

She stared at him, not sure what he meant by that.

"You skipped practice yesterday—?"

"Right." She nodded. "Yeah, I am. Wouldn't be out here if I didn't."

"That's great," he said automatically, now pointing behind him. "I saw the gate open out front and thought maybe I'd left it open after practice last night. I was checking things out when I saw you out here."

She suddenly felt a rush of panic overcome her. Had he seen how poor she was flying? How much she'd struggled? She wasn't sure she could handle him knowing yet. "What did you see, exactly?"

"I saw you land. Looked a bit rough." He didn't elaborate any further. "Everything alright?"

She leaned down and pretended to be adjusting the laces on her trainer so that she wouldn't have to look at him. "Sure. Everything's great. Trying to get back into things, you know. Feeling rusty."

"Right," he said, though his tone was curious. "Thought maybe you were cold or something."

"Why would you think that?"

"You were off. Sometimes when you get cold—"

"It is cold out here," she agreed immediately, wondering how far she could realistically go on. As much as she wanted to turn away and avoid this entire conversation, he'd seen her. If he'd caught wind of anything that had happened in the last ten minutes, he already knew something was off. How long did she plan on lying and making excuses before everyone would give up on her? She could only blow off practices and people for so long.

He'd walked over and picked up her broom off the ground and proceeded to hand it back to her. "Ground's wet. You don't want it to warp the wood."

She took it begrudgingly, thinking immediately about how it didn't even matter if the wood warped. Who needed a high quality speed broom when you couldn't even fly? "Thanks."

He stood watching her, and she immediately felt awkward under his gaze. Neither really seemed to know what to say to the other. His body language seemed to say that he was sorry to have dropped in on what had obviously been a private moment, and while she was terrified that he'd seen her flying so poorly, a part of her was happy he'd seen it. She hadn't wanted to tell him, but she couldn't stop him from finding out on his own.

"I can't fly," she said bluntly. "I'm not cold, I just can't fly anymore."

His expression didn't seem to register what exactly that meant. "You can't fly where anymore?"

"Anywhere if it's on a broom," she muttered. "I've lost all of my ability. After Louis and I got ourselves scrambled, he apparently has all my abilities and all I've been left with is a wealth of knowledge and no way to properly execute it. You should see him, he can get that broom off the ground with ease. I can barely even mount mine."

He again didn't seem to understand what she was trying to tell him. He stared at her.

"I might as well be a first-year Muggleborn on their first day of Flying class." She paused before adding, "Not like you were, but the usual kind who can't get the broom off the ground."

He looked away and searched the sky before returning his gaze onto her. "So, you're saying that's another thing you and Louis...?"

She was nodding before he could even finish his sentence. He seemed to be considering very carefully what she was saying, but ultimately added. "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it's bad. Had you come a minute earlier, you would have gotten quite the show."

"It's not possible..." He trailed off, looking as if she'd delivered him some heavy news. "You're overreacting."

"I'm not."

"Show me, then. Let me get an actual look."

"No!" She was horrified by the thought of someone actively watching her attempt to fly again. "I'm telling you right now, I'm not fit to even own a bloody broom, let alone fly one. I'd rather not show anyone until I've…" She trailed off. Until she'd what? Fixed herself? Who knew if that was even possible.

"Nic, it's me. No judgement."

"It's not happening," she said, cutting him off and walking directly past him toward the changing room. She was done with this conversation.

"Alright," he said slowly, and she could hear his voice follow her as she walked. "But don't you think you should give me a look before Slytherin this weekend?"

She stopped and rounded back on him, throwing him a very bewildered stare. "I'm not playing against Slytherin. I can't. Did you not hear what I just said?"

"You're my starting Seeker," he said, now casually walking toward her with his hands in his pockets. "And last I checked, I make the calls as to who plays."

She laughed in a humorless way. "Right. Well, you can't force me to go. And if I don't show up to practices, then I'm not allowed. That's your rule. Also—and again this part is important—" She walked straight up to him so that there was a foot separating them. "I. Can't. Fly."

"How do I know?" he asked. "You won't show me."

"For fuck's sake, Jack? You can't just take my word on this?"

He looked her dead in the eyes. "If I took everyone at their word with no proof, Tommy would be able to knock a Bludger, flat footed, out of this arena. Potter would be able to score eighty points in a minute. And they can't do any of that. "

She stared at him. Fuck, he was serious. He was actually going to make her show him? Perhaps it was better to just show him and shut him up. Once he saw how bad things were, he'd drop it. He'd probably tell her she was done for the season and leave it be. Fine. So be it. She would show him just to get him off of her back.

"Fine," she muttered angrily, turning around to grip her broom between her fingers. In the past, she would have been able to mount it and effortlessly push off in one fluid motion, but now she had to stop and actually concentrate. She gripped it even harder as she pushed off, stabilizing herself quickly as the broom shook beneath her. She went to do a lap, forcing herself to give it all she could so that there were no excuses when Jack inevitably asked if she was even trying.

When she landed two minutes later—a lap should have taken forty seconds—she found Jack still standing in the same place he had been before; his expression unreadable. She marched directly up to him and bowed in a theatrical manner. "There you go."

He inhaled slowly. "You made it sound worse than it was. It's still better than most of the people who tryout."

"They didn't make the team for a reason."

"You'll fix it. You can fix this."

"Not before Slytherin," she said, passing him on her way to the changing rooms.

His lack of response to that spoke volumes. He clearly agreed with her, though he wasn't going to admit it out loud. She had managed to get all the way back to the edge of the pitch before he again called out. "Slytherin's rubbish these days. Their Seeker, especially. You've never had a problem beating Motley."

"When I could fly," she said, turning back toward him. "This isn't the old me we're talking about."

"You'll fix it," he repeated. "And you're already working on it. I can help."

"How can you help?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Offer you some suggestions or—"

"Jack, I know all of the suggestions. "I taught them to you. This isn't about me not knowing what to do, I can't. Something isn't connecting."

"Right," he said, nodding as if he realized that had been a dumb idea. "Well, I can come out here for moral support, then. You shouldn't have to do this alone. We've always been a team."

"Well, unfortunately," she said, taking a heavy breath. "I feel we may have reached the end of our Quidditch partnership now that we're headed in completely opposite directions."

He didn't have a response to that, though he did frown. She wasn't even sure where it had come from. If she were being honest, until she said the words, she hadn't even realized the truth of that statement. Once a shared dream to play professional Quidditch—something that was practically inevitable for him—now seemed an impossibility for her.

And she knew at that moment that it wasn't even her new problems that were the issue; this had been gradually happening over the last few months. Her lack of focus at the Trials, her poor performances in big matches, and her complete absences in other matches—she'd gotten distracted too easily. Sabatino had been right when he'd called her out for her lack of drive and focus; her desire to coast into things instead of truly working to achieve them. He'd been a dick about it, but he'd been right.

She'd had so much working against her before she'd even lost her ability to fly. She'd been mucking things up for ages now, despite it being more important than ever for her to focus and work at it. But yet she hadn't. There seemed to be a pattern of her involuntarily fucking up everything that she cared about.

"It had to happen sometime," she said quietly, suddenly feeling herself calm considerably. "This was our last season after all."

"No," he said. "Season's not over yet. We've got two, potentially three matches left. This isn't dead. We're not done yet."

"No," she corrected, turning to walk off into the tunnel. "You're not done yet. I'm—" She stopped and stared, not entirely sure what to say since she didn't want to finish that sentence. She wasn't ready to finish that sentence.

Jack hadn't asked her to finish; he also never asked if she was coming to practice that day—or the day after, or the day after that. He seemed to realize that she'd made up her mind; even if he may have refused to accept that. He'd stopped asking the obvious questions, but it didn't stop him from waiting for her in the common room each morning after she'd awoken at the crack of dawn to fly.

He first tried to play it off as a coincidence—that he happened to be leaving to run right as she was leaving to fly—but it was easy to see through that once he began offering to accompany her to the pitch. He would then leave her alone mostly, seemingly understanding that she needed to figure this out on his own, and he would run his laps while she re-trained herself to fly. It was only after she'd been at it for an hour would they even speak about it. After two days of this, she'd gotten used to him being there and felt comfortable enough to ask him for feedback. After three days, she was actively working with him.

After her last run of that third day—which she'd felt good about—Jack had been sitting in the grass with the playbook open across his lap. Once she had landed, she walked over to where he raised his hand in the air to give her a high-five. That last lap had been her best one in ages. Given his expression, she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"You shaved eighteen seconds off that time," he said, smiling up at her.

"Still pitiful," she said, though she was smiling and felt rather proud. She knew there was still a lot of work to do, but it was progress. "Still not good enough to play Slytherin today, but good. Speaking of Slytherin, don't you need to get ready for that?"

He checked his watch. "I've got some time." He focused his gaze on her. "You could handle Slytherin, you know? I believe that."

"You'd be wrong," she said as she examined some of her broom bristles. "Besides, I haven't been practicing all week. No practice, no play time. That's your rule."

He looked back down at his playbook and flipped a page. "I'd be willing to make an exception."

She laughed as she plucked a stray bristle. "You'd never hear the end of it from any of the others. They'd say you're playing favorites."

"You are my favorite."

She immediately looked back at him, though he hadn't even looked up from the playbook as he spoke. He'd said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that she was almost surprised by the bluntness of it. It had honestly startled her.

She swallowed hard, feeling an overwhelming sense of admiration surging through her all of the sudden and making her feel rather emotional. What on Earth had she done to deserve him as a friend? As a more than friend? He was coming out here every morning to help her and offer words of encouragement, just because he wanted to. He didn't have to, she'd never asked, but he was still doing it. He was going out of his way for her. He was always doing that. And why? What had she ever brought to the table?

It was as if everything everyone had been telling her suddenly manifested into that moment. He really was such a catch. He was so thoughtful, and supportive, and just truly a good person. And he'd stuck around; he hadn't run when he probably should have. She'd done so many things wrong, but she had to have done at least one thing right because he was still fucking here.

It was then, while he was still flipping through the playbook, that she walked over and dropped her broom down beside him. She leaned down and hugged him tightly around his broad shoulders; even letting her head rest on his shoulder for an extra few seconds before pulling herself back to look at him.

"Thank you," she finally said.

"For...?" he began to say, but she stopped him mid sentence and quickly kissed him where he sat. It wasn't more than a few seconds long; she was pulling up and standing almost immediately after having done it, but she noticed he looked rather dazed by the gesture.

"For everything," she said, bending over to pick up her broom. She threw him a small smile and, without another word, turned toward the changing room and crossed the short distance toward the tunnel.

She'd made it just inside and had been heading to her locker when she heard the sound of the door being caught and stopped behind her. She turned to look, though she barely had time to register anything because Jack had walked straight up to her, dropped the playbook on the ground beside them, grabbed her by the face, and kissed her in a way that made her thankful she'd been standing close to the lockers. She let them catch her with a dull thud once her knees gave out a little.

This was a turn of events, but one that she was entirely all for. She quickly wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him in as close as was humanly possible, kissing him back with as much energy as he was putting out. It was as if a charge now surged through her from top to bottom; she wanted to trap this feeling in a bottle and never let it go.

It seemed as if ages had passed since she'd last felt his lips pressed onto hers or his tongue play into her mouth with such energy. This was what she wanted. She hadn't even known how much she missed it until she had it back. She was stupid to have pushed him away for so long. Why on Earth would she have ever fought this?

He pushed her back up against the locker and took her by surprise, but only briefly. She reciprocated by kissing him back harder and faster, just to let him know she clearly enjoyed this. She enjoyed all of it. Things were ramping up to the point where they may even be taking this beyond a heated snog, and if that was the case, she was going to let it happen. She hadn't known until thirty seconds prior that she'd wanted this as badly as she did.

She remembered what Louis had told her then; how Jack wanted nothing more than to know she wanted him and wanted to be with him. How those were the words that needed to be spoken and she had to stop holding back. She had to admit, while she was caught up in this euphoric sort of feeling with his lips on hers, it seemed a lot easier to come right out and say.

"I want you," she murmured into his mouth, barely getting her mouth free to speak the words. "You. Only you."

"I want you, too," he said a little breathlessly, him evidently taking that 'I want you' as a signal to push things even further. He'd gone and picked her up suddenly, taking her by surprise, and pushed her into the lockers. He supported her weight and she wrapped her legs around his waist, the two never breaking their faces apart for a second. She found herself surprised and aroused; if he kept this up, she was putty in his hands. She was just going to keep kissing him like her life depended on it.

She tangled her hands up in his hair as they did nothing more than kiss with the sort of energy that made her want nothing more than rip his clothes off and have her way with him. He'd moved onto kissing her neck, and while she didn't want this to stop, she had to at least ask, "Don't you have to get ready for the match?"

"Probably," he said into her neck, his hands gently under her sweatshirt now and grazing her stomach and sides. "Do you want me to stop?"

She pulled his face back to her so that she could kiss it again, but not before mumbling a hurried, "No. I want you to keep doing exactly what you're doing."

"Then that's what I'm doing," he said as he lowered her down to the ground and pulled his own jumper off. He'd still had on a t-shirt, but with the heavy layer off, she could now see and touch his arms, which he must have realized did something for her because he laughed a little when he saw her face.

He kissed her again, reaching down to pull her sweatshirt off as well. She was only wearing a sports bra underneath, and his hands were already grazing all of the new and exposed skin he had available to his touch. She was lost in the moment then, letting hands slide wherever they felt free to go and lips travel all over exposed body parts. She knew then that this was going to happen. They both were going to explode if it didn't.

She stopped and pulled him rather aggressively toward the side of the room, to a countertop where towels were stacked—and were currently set out for the match that day—and immediately pushed a stack of them to the ground to clear up space. He already seemed to realize where they were going with this because he lifted her up to sit on the countertop and again began to kiss her. His hands were rubbing up and down and in between her thighs, grazing over the parts of her that she wished he'd just put something in already. She couldn't take it much longer. Everything about this, from the unexpectedness of this entire moment, to him, to his in-control attitude was such a bloody turn on.

She reached down the front of his joggers to grab onto him, only for him to tug them down the rest of the way and let them fall around his ankles. If anyone walked in right now, they would get a full view of his arse, but that didn't seem to bother him. The fact that he'd had to have her right then and there, despite his previous reservations about being open and exposed, was the best part. He didn't seem to care in the least. He was far too busy pulling at her leggings and wiggling them down around her own ankles. Before he could get them fully off, she signaled for her wand, which they fumbled around for before she cast a quick spell. When that was done, there was no hesitation, he was immediately sliding inside of her.

They both made breathy noises that could best be summed up as saying " _finally,_ " he with his eyes closed and now thrusting while she breathed heavily and used the table underneath to support herself. The table squeaked and creaked beneath them as he went, getting louder and faster in the minutes he built up speed.

"I want to do this all the time," he managed to stammer out after a bit. "With you."

"I do, too," she said, feeling the pleasant build inside of her the harder he worked. She wrapped her legs around his waist to let him hit a different spot that would help her get there faster.

"I want to be with you."

She started nodding, not much in the mood for chatter as the sensation inside of her began to get stronger and stronger with each thrust. She needed to concentrate on that as she felt him start to stiffen up. He had to be getting close.

His eyes were closed and he was making a face that he was obviously almost there. "Fuck, I don't know how much longer—"

"I'm getting there," she said, the sensation building so close. If he so much as paused the rhythm he'd established or shifted himself in the slightest, she could possibly lose it. They'd found the exact position they both needed to be in to make this happen, so even if he couldn't hold on, he better be ready to put in the extra bloody minute. She was too close to let this not happen.

The next minute and a half was very chaotic. They both ended up coming, almost simultaneously, though he'd been first and she'd caught the tail end of his and worked hers out. They could work on their timing with practice—she was willing to put in the work. As they both came back down to reality and stared at each other, Dominique couldn't help but feel rather shocked it had happened at all. She could have sworn her last shag in the changing rooms had come and gone a long time ago.

"Well, hello," she said with a grin, grabbing a nearby—and conveniently placed—towel. She handed a second one to him.

"Hey," he said, also grinning as he took it to clean up. There was a bashful quality about his smile now that she found oddly sweet.

She pulled her leggings up and hopped off the table. "Where did you come from?"

He laughed a little, pulling up his own trousers. "I know you're keen on the whole risk taking thing. I thought I'd..." He shrugged.

"I'm keen on _you_ ," she said, tugging on the front of his shirt. "Though, I won't lie, the way that played out definitely did things for me."

He was smiling once again, though his eyes slowly drifted over to a nearby clock. His face suddenly fell. "Is that the time?"

She turned to catch the time, noticing immediately that Jack probably should have been back up to the castle getting ready for the match about fifteen minutes ago. He was suddenly hurrying around the room, looking to tidy up their mess.

"Go," she told him. "I'll clean up."

"You sure?" he asked, though he was already looking for his jumper from earlier that he'd tossed off and was stepping toward the exit. "I can—"

"Go," she urged, just as he found both of their top layers and proceeded to toss her hers as he pulled his on. "If you leave now you can get dressed and still grab something to eat."

"Thank you," he said, fumbling to pull his jumper over his head as he was already halfway out the door. "I'll find you in the Great Hall."

She nodded as the door swung shut, and she used her wand to levitate all the towels they'd knocked over back onto the table. She hadn't even gotten them an inch off the ground before the door swung back open.

"I don't mean to keep running off every time we do that," he said earnestly. "I kind of feel I'm being a prat with always leaving afterwards."

"Go!" she laughed, earning her one last smile out of him before he left.


	10. Deep Breath

Dominique headed straight to breakfast after her unexpected morning on the pitch, and the Great Hall was already starting to fill up with people wearing scarlet and gold or silver and green attire. She was happy that her morning had put her in such a good mood, because it wasn't until she saw the scarves and jumpers in support of both teams that it truly hit her that she was going to merely be a spectator today. She hadn't been one of those for years. She wasn't even sure what she had to wear to the match since she'd been in Quidditch robes for so long.

Natalie had appeared a few minutes after she had, commenting immediately on how early Dominique must have been up that morning and making idle chit chat about how strange it was that she wasn't playing. Nearby at the Ravenclaw table, Giggleswick and Baileymoore were both throwing curious looks in her direction, though they'd quickly turned when they noticed her looking. People were starting to figure out she wasn't dressed to play; the questions were already being asked.

The Great Hall filled up quickly after that, as it often did on match days. Much of the Slytherin team appeared first, then Kenley, followed later by James and the rest of them. Tommy has stopped in front of her to flat out ask her how she was feeling, which caused her to merely mumble a weak sounding, "Fine," seeing as she wasn't sure what he even knew. She chose not to elaborate, despite his attempt to poke and prod, but he eventually relented before leaving to find a seat with his friends.

James had also had some questions for her—none of which about why she wasn't playing. He instead was focused on what he should be paying attention to when it came to Slytherin and their Seeker specifically. As Jack entered with Louis and Flynn minutes later, she'd reassured James that he had nothing to worry about against Clark Motley. If he could handle Giggleswick, then Motley would be a walk in the park.

"Look at you," Flynn said to her as he took the seat beside Natalie. "Sitting in the stands with the rest of us."

"I'm hoping she'll be back in it by the time Hufflepuff comes around," Jack said, taking the seat beside her and smiling before they'd even had a chance to make eye contact. She returned it, noticing that he looked especially cute in his Quidditch robes right now. She held his gaze for a brief extra second before they both broke away to tend to their breakfasts. From under the table, she could feel him purposely move his leg over so that it was resting closely next to hers. It made her grin at her eggs.

Flynn had begun rambling on about the upcoming Camp Out Night that was still ages away, and how he needed to start planning if he was going to get alcohol for it. It opened up an entire conversation as to the creative ways to sneak contraband into the castle, for which Louis seemed to know more about than Dominique would have suspected.

He had just started telling them about hidden tunnels in and out of the building that their uncles had apparently told him about, when Dominique suddenly felt Jack tense beside her. When she turned to look, his gaze had drifted entirely across the room. He was even holding his fork in midair as if he'd forgotten what to do with it. It wasn't until he muttered, "What the fuck?" did she turn to look for herself.

Erin and Zara had walked into the Great Hall—both dressed in their Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"What the fuck?" she said, now seeing what he meant. Zara—who was supposed to have pulled out of the season thanks to the tournament—was now suited up to play. The loss of her had been the entire reason Slytherin was so abysmal lately. If she was now back—and teamed up with Erin—Slytherin could easily be dominant again. The two of them were capable of putting up points in such a quick manner that catching the Snitch became almost a non-factor. Dominique could remember several instances where she had to keep their Seeker away from the Snitch as opposed to catching it just to buy Gyffindor time to score more.

She swung back around on Jack, already realizing how bad this was. They'd been prepared for an easy crushing of a shitty Slytherin team, not one that would actually put up a fight. This match was supposed to be a stepping stone toward the Quidditch Cup.

"Why is Zara dressed to play?" Jack said, sounding as if he was thinking out loud.

"She'd mentioned that she was hoping to get back into Quidditch once she got back," Louis said. "She really missed it."

"Perhaps you should have mentioned that a bit sooner," Dominique snapped.

"How is this even allowed?" Jack asked. "She's left the team." He looked at Dominique. "Didn't she leave?"

There was sudden laughter from the Ravenclaw table, and Giggleswick—who'd obviously noticed and was now standing to get a better look over at the Slytherins—was gaping, but he also seemed extremely amused. He shot Jack a funny look, as if waiting to see him to react. What did he have to be so smug about? Was he not aware that Ravenclaw still had to play Slytherin, too? Granted, they would have more time to prepare, and they had the best Keeper in the school, but they still did.

Tommy and Eatins had now stood to look as well, no one quite believing what they were seeing. There was quite a bit of, "Is this allowed?" aimed in Jack's direction, though he looked completely lost in thought. Kenley now looked absolutely terrified. She'd always struggled tremendously against Erin and Zara.

"Just take Zara out with a Bludger first thing," Flynn said to Jack, as if it were that easy and something he wouldn't have already thought of.

Jack stood then, apparently having every intention of walking over to the Slytherin table to get to the bottom of this. Dominique stood as well. Perhaps it was out of habit, but even if she wasn't playing, when it came to matters of Gryffindor Quidditch she felt she had a right to know.

Erin had seen them coming, and was already smiling her smug, clearly satisfied smile. She nudged Zara, who also began smiling once she noticed the pair of them approaching. "Good morning. Lovely day for Quidditch, wouldn't you say?"

"What's this, then?" Jack asked, gesturing to Zara. "You're playing?"

"Of course," Zara said brightly. "Why wouldn't I be? I've missed most of the season and have a lot of catching up to do. Heard that scouts should be there, so I'll need to be making a good impression."

Jack said nothing, though Dominique quipped, "Are you even on the roster?"

Erin laughed. "Obviously she's on the roster. You're not allowed to play if you're not."

"But you quit the season!"

"Did I?" Zara asked, glancing at Erin as if that was news to her. "Here I thought I simply missed a few games."

"People are always jumping to conclusions," Erin said, still looking amused before settling her gaze on Jack. "No, she never quit. And I never took her off the roster. I simply moved her into an alternate spot. She's been there all season. You could have checked at any point." She smiled. "The rules are quite clear, but I don't need to tell you two that."

Jack looked away, a quick "Fuck," escaping from under his breath. Even Dominique had to admit that was a brilliant move. Make it seem as if she'd quit, let everyone get complacent when it came to Slytherin's chances, and then bring her back and knock everyone upside their heads. It was truly clever.

"I think everyone assumed you'd quit the season," Dominique added.

"Good, that's what we were hoping everyone would think," Erin said obviously, though she was now looking Dominique up and down. "But speaking of quitting, what's your story? You're not even dressed. Are you not Seeking?" Her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, please tell me you're putting Potter in. I would love to hear that he's not Chasing today. That would make my day that much better."

"You've got your secrets and I've got mine," Jack said, grabbing Dominique by the arm and tugging her away.

"See you on the pitch!" Erin called out, causing Zara and a few of the other Slytherins to laugh.

The moment they were out of earshot, he was already rambling a mile a minute. "Fuck, I can't believe...If Slytherin beats us today, and then somehow also beat Ravenclaw, then—excluding Hufflepuff—we've all got the same record. Instead of it being an automatic Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cup match, Slytherin would now be in contention."

Dominique felt her mouth get dry as they approached the Gryffindor table once more. "Yes, but if that happened, it would come down to points and who had scored the most all season. The top two teams would go forward, and given how little Slytherin's put up all season—"

"With Zara back, they could potentially make up the difference with the two games they have left!" Jack practically shouted before he suddenly lowered his voice. "Think of what they've done against Kenley in the past."

He was right. If Erin and Zara were in a rhythm and they had a goal to achieve, there was no stopping them against Kenley. And there was no doubt that Erin knew the exact path she had to take to give her team a fighting chance. She was going to run up the score as much as possible.

"Then take them out!" Flynn said after they'd sat back down, again offering his random advice. "Aren't you one of the best Beaters around?"

"They're some of the best Chasers!" Dominique said. "Especially together! Both of them are experts at dodging Bludgers." She glanced back at Jack, who was staring straight ahead at nothing. His entire game plan needed to change in an instant, and all she could do was offer suggestions.

"You need to score as much as possible, as fast as possible," she said urgently. "Straight out the gate, you have to keep pace with them. The Chasers cannot afford to get complacent. I can talk to James some more and tell him he needs to play defensively. How he needs to be sure to monitor the score and time things properly."

"If I need to score as much as possible, as fast as possible, then I need my fastest Chaser to actually play Chaser," Jack said. "Eatins can only push so hard on his own, and Alice isn't there yet. Rory...he's an alternate, for fuck's sake." He looked her in the eyes. "I need Potter with a Quaffle. He and Eatins together stand a chance."

Her brow furrowed. "But then who's going to be Seeker? Rory?" She laughed.

Jack was still staring at her. She had assumed he was lost in thought and thinking things over, until it suddenly hit her that he was giving her that look for a reason. She glanced around the rest of the table, noticing that everyone else sitting there had realized what Jack was playing at before she had. They were all looking at her as if waiting for a response.

"No." She sat up straighter. "No. I can't. Jack, I can't. You know I can't."

"You can as well as Rory can," he said, his tone desperate. "You at least understand the nuance of the Slytherin team. You understand how to be a defensive Seeker, which is something I can't teach Rory before the start of the match."

"Jack, I can't," she repeated, shaking her head. "I physically can't. You've seen how bad I've gotten—"

"You're not bad," he said. "And I'm not just saying that because I need you to play. I'm saying it because you're not."

No, she thought. No. No. No. No. Just say no. Why couldn't she just say the word no? She'd never had a problem saying that in the past, but here she was—staring into his sweet grey eyes—and she couldn't make herself say it. She wasn't sure if she felt guilty for getting her team into this situation in the first place or it was Jack and his effect on her that was making it impossible for her to turn it down. All she did know was that despite the vice like clenching in her chest that screamed this was an awful idea and nothing good would come from it, the only sound she could make was a defeated sounded exhale of breath.

"What if I don't catch—?"

"It doesn't matter if you don't," Jack said, his voice encouraging. "It matters that you're the best chance I've got. Nic, your presence alone out there is enough to get in Motley's head. He's never caught the Snitch against you. I need to buy our Chasers time."

She swallowed hard, turning away from him to look down at the table. She felt sick. If she said no, she was leaving Gryfifndor completely fucked. However, if she said yes, they were pretty much equally as fucked, only she was also going to make a fool of herself. But saying yes would give Jack some peace of mind and she was slowly starting to figure out that the only reason she was even thinking this over was because he was the one asking. Anyone else, this would have been open and shut.

"I cannot promise you that I'll catch—"

"I know and that's fine," Jack said, smiling at her. That smile. Shit. She was going to say yes and she was going to have to rush upstairs and get dressed and go down to that pitch and fly like an idiot in front of the entire school. All because of that smile.

"Fine," she said quietly.

Jack let his head drop down before immediately picking it back up in a relieved sort of way. "I definitely owe you. Thank you."

"I don't know why you're thanking me," she said. "You have to realize this will not end well."

"It'll end with us beating Slytherin," he said, calling down the table to James. "Oi, Potter!"

James turned to look at him, his fork dangling out of his mouth.

"You're Chasing today. Nic's going to be Seeker."

James' face looked a little curious, but he ultimately shrugged and nodded without even bothering to ask any questions. The rest of the team seemed surprised, and Rory seemed confused—but that was Jack's job to sort out. She currently couldn't ignore the tightening in her chest, which felt as if it was getting more and more painful. She caught Jack's eye one last time, which caused him to grin encouragingly.

That was the only thing that was keeping her from vomiting at the moment.

An hour later, after a warm up that she barely participated in and a pre-match meeting with the rest of her team that she barely paid attention to, Dominique still felt sick to her stomach. It was assumed to be nerves mixed with an overwhelming desire to not do this; with every minute that ticked closer to the release of the Quaffle, her chest tightened further and her stomach flip-flopped. Despite it being cool and windy, she felt sweaty and clammy.

Something felt wrong. She'd never had this kind of reaction to nerves before. She usually functioned well under pressure.

"You don't look well," Tommy said to her once the team walked toward the gate to queue up. She was surprised she'd even heard him, having sat through their team meeting and paying attention to five words. She'd been asked if she was alright about ten times so far, and all she could do was nod in return. She could tell by everyone's expressions that no one believed her; no one dared to contradict her, though.

"Kenley doesn't look great either," Eatins said as they reached the last bend before the gate. "She's really worked up over Zara being back."

"Yeah, but…" Tommy gestured to Dominique. "Look at her. She's white as a sheet. Are you really sure you're alright? Maybe you're trying to get back into things too soon?"

She most certainly was. She'd found out that Jack had told everyone earlier in the week that she was dealing with some unspecified trauma from her time in France; no one should be expecting her to play right away—hence the missed practices and the desire to sit out today's match. It was mostly true, and no one had questioned him for details.

But when Zara turned up that morning, not a single one of them questioned Jack suddenly placing her back into the lineup. They'd even backed the decision once Jack explained his reasoning for having James at Chaser—but that was before they saw her. Now, she stood there sweating, pale, and shaky as she heard her heartbeat in her ears. Her chest was getting so tight it was getting harder to breathe. She started taking bigger breaths to make up for it.

Jack was currently intensely going over plays with James up ahead as they reached the spot where they were supposed to queue up. Dominique could hear Tommy tell Kenley, "Don't let them get in your head."

"Tommy, they are relentless. They scored three-hundred on me the last time we played them. I barely get a second to breathe."

"I'm going to work overtime to stop them, I promise."

The match was set to start in less than five minutes. Dominique gripped her broom for support, though she realized she needed something more stable. Her vision was starting to feel fuzzy and her breathing was becoming more and more labored. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry there was nothing there. She felt so warm.

"Is she ok?" asked someone; she had no idea who. She could barely concentrate on anything other than not collapsing to the floor. She suddenly knelt down to prevent that from happening.

"Dominique? What's—"

"Something's wrong with her."

Tommy was in her face a second later, staring into her eyes and helping her sit down on the ground, but she couldn't focus on him. He was saying something, but she could barely breathe. She felt as if she were drowning and gasping for air. She had no idea what was happening to her, but she'd never been so scared in her life.

Jack appeared like Tommy had, looking her directly in the eyes. He was also saying something, but she was far too terrified and overwhelmed to listen. Voices were shouting. She felt as if she were dying and that any minute the air in her lungs was going to be sucked out with one last breath. She closed her eyes and waited for the worst to come.

"You need to breathe. Deep breaths. This is going to pass. I promise you this will pass."

No, it wasn't. This was the end. She knew it. There was no way this wasn't going to consume her and destroy her. This was the worst feeling she'd ever experienced in her entire life.

She sensed someone else beside her. She had no idea who, but whomever it was repeated what the other one had said and that she needed to breathe. In and out. In and out. It was so hard because her chest felt so painfully tight. The room felt so small and crowded. She put her head between her knees and tried with every part of her to breathe.

A minute passed. Then two. Then three. She wasn't dead yet. Four. Five. Six. Seven. By eight, she felt less like she was drowning and more like she had someone heavy sitting on top of her chest. Nine. Ten. Eleven. By twelve, she managed to pick her head up and look around. She felt like absolute shit and as if she would still be sick any moment, but her lungs were on her side again. They weren't trying to do her in.

It was Professor Flitwick who was crouched down in front of her. Professor Longbottom was beside him, watching with a world of concern on his face. Her Quidditch team was gone—even Jack.

"Are you feeling better?" Flitwick asked. "More in control of yourself?"

She managed a weak nod.

"Good. I feel as if you're having an anxiety attack. Have you ever had one before, Dominique?"

She shook her head. No. That had always been Louis' thing.

You need to rest and relax," Flitwick continued. "If you're up for it, I think we should move you to a quieter location. The changing room, perhaps?"

"Shouldn't we get her to the hospital wing, Filius?"

"Once she's calmed a bit more, yes, definitely. But for now we need to get her away from the noise and chaos."

They both helped her up, and while she'd been afraid her legs would buckle underneath her, they did as they were supposed to and supported her weight. She was guided to the nearest changing room, Ravenclaw's, where Flitwick opened the doors and led her to the nearest seat. Longbottom went and retrieved some towels for her, one of which he immediately draped over her shoulders. She was shaking a bit; he was probably hedging his bets on whether or not that was due to the temperature or her current state of mind.

"Did the match start?" she asked.

Both Longbottom and Flitwick managed funny sorts of smiles, probably at the fact that she was even thinking about Quidditch right now. It was Longbottom who shook his head. "We've delayed the start. I sent everyone back to their changing rooms."

That explained where everyone went, even Jack—which surprised her. Maybe Longbottom had been insistent that he leave as well, because otherwise that didn't seem like the type of person he was. The same person who was voluntarily waking at the crack of dawn every morning to help her work on flying again was not the same person who would willingly disappear when she was in the middle of an anxiety attack.

An anxiety attack. That's what Flitwick had said it was. An overwhelming, debilitating, all consuming anxiety attack. She'd witnessed Louis have several before his potions sorted him out, but she'd never had the nightmare of having one herself. It seemed she really was getting the short end of the stick Louis had to offer.

Flitwick and Longbottom were talking in quiet voices, evidently having a conversation they didn't want her to hear. She didn't care, she was far too focused on shaking off this awful feeling of cold, awkward, unsettledness. Was that the first of many anxiety attacks to come or an isolated incident? Had it really taken almost three weeks for that new part of her to rear its ugly head or was this the first real time she'd been triggered by something enough to cause one? Was this her new reality or just a random side effect? What was happening?

Flitwick mentioned to Longbottom that he needed to check on something and that he would return shortly; he was halfway out the door when she could hear him now addressing someone. He distinctly said, "She's in here," which caused her to glance up. All she could make out was Flitwick's holding the door before it revealed Louis. Jack was right behind him.

While Flitwick had let Louis pass, he had stopped Jack. "It's best not to overwhelm her with too many people, Mr. Ians. Perhaps just her brother—"

"Oh, but—" Louis had turned back around. "He's not...I mean, he's her boyfriend. She'll want to see him."

Flitwick seemed surprised to hear that—as was Jack. Flitwick looked at Jack, who seemed a little lost for words, but nodded as if realizing that would get him in the door. They all turned to look at Dominique, who also nodded without a word. Whatever allowed him in. She just wanted to see them.

Flitwick stood back to let him pass without argument, saying to Longbottom, "I can't ever keep up with that sort of thing," before leaving once again. Both Louis and Jack crossed the room toward her, with Louis reaching her first and immediately crouching down to look her in the eyes.

"How are you?" he asked. "How do you feel?"

"Awful."

"I know," Louis said, reaching out to give her upper arm a squeeze. "They're terrifying. Give it an hour and you'll have worked the strangest parts out. A nice cup of tea can help. There's a potion you can drink as well. Madam Pomfrey's gone some." He looked down before looking right back at her. "Shit, Nic. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. You didn't ask for any of this."

She didn't know what to say to that. While true, she wasn't angry with him as he may have assumed. He wouldn't have ever deliberately put her in this position. She didn't think it was his fault, but she also knew it was. It could be both.

She glanced over at Jack, who was standing back with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked anxious and concerned, though when she caught his eye he forced a smile. Louis turned around to look as well.

"Jack came and found me," he said to her. "Figured if anyone knows about anxiety attacks, it's me."

"They told us to clear out and it was the only thing I could think of to do," Jack said, his voice sounding far away. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't..." He was shaking his head. "I never should have asked you to play today."

"Jack," she said, her voice sounding weaker than even she'd anticipated, "you couldn't have known. I couldn't have known."

"You told me you didn't want to," he said, and she realized then that he was legitimately shaken. "I should have listened."

"I don't blame you."

"Mate," Louis said, obviously sensing Jack's state, "no one could have ever assumed this. You can't blame yourself." He turned back toward her. "I know it seems endless, but the worst of it is over. You'll be fine. Are they taking you to the hospital wing?"

"I think they're waiting for me to calm down so I can walk on my own."

Louis nodded. "Yeah, makes sense. Pomfrey will give you some stuff to take and you'll be alright. I'll come with you if you want."

She nodded. Having both of them here made her feel calmer and more clear headed already, even if Jack was in a bit of a state himself. She didn't want to be alone. She was terrified of being alone.

The door of the changing room opened again and in walked Flitwick once more. He went straight to Longbottom, who had been quietly observing the three of them from across the room, and commented that Madam Pomfrey had been alerted and was awaiting them up at the school. He then addressed Jack.

"Mr. Ians, the match is set to commence in ten minutes."

Jack looked as if he'd barely heard him. He slowly turned and looked back at Dominique. She could have sworn she caught doubt in his expression, as if he was trying to work out what he should be doing. As much as she wanted him to stay put because his presence was a comfort, even she knew what needed to be done.

"Go," she urged. "You need to go."

"I…" He was shaking his head again. "I...I don't—"

"Jack, don't be stupid," she said. "I'm going to the hospital wing to be tended to and Louis will be there." She glanced at Louis, who was nodding. "This match is important and we can't afford to lose both of us."

"I can't even imagine playing right now. My mind's in twenty different places."

"Take these few minutes to clear it and focus," she said more forcefully. "I'm serious. Go."

He took a deep breath, glancing at both of his professors before back at the two of them. "You're going to be OK?"

She was nodding and actually believing it for the first time, just as Louis said, "She'll be better if you beat Slytherin."

"That seems like another world right now. But...alright. I'm going to—" He pointed to the exit. "I'll find you after."

She nodded, but beckoned for him to come closer under the pretense of wanting to tell him something privately. When he did—obviously assuming she was keeping her voice low so the professors wouldn't hear—she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. It lingered for a few seconds and, once she pulled away, she felt herself exhale in an exhausted sort of way. A public display of affection. That had taken a lot of energy out of her.

"Don't fuck it up," she said.

He smiled a little. "Don't fuck it up."

"Good luck," she said to him, both meaning it and also reminding him that he needed to go. That ten minutes was now eight and he still had to restructure his entire match plan.

Jack looked dazed and she wasn't sure if that kiss had made things better or worse, but he did manage a "Feel better," as he headed out; nodding politely at both of their professor as he passed

"Well," Louis said, looking over at her with a funny sort of smile. "That happened."

"You're the one who called him my boyfriend."

Louis lowered his voice. "I'd have called him from the start if that was all it took."


	11. Switched Out

Minutes later, Flitwick called over that if she were feeling up to it, they should walk up to the castle when she was ready. Longbottom had excused himself to get to the match. He apparently had a meeting with two Quidditch scouts about a student, though he wasn't at liberty to say whom. His tone, however, alluded to it being Jack; she was happy he hadn't chosen to mention any of that to them while Jack was still here. He didn't need the added pressure of knowing. She only hoped he was capable of clearing his mind before playing.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey has given her a potion to calm her considerably, warning that a side effect was that it may make her feel lethargic. She'd asked that Dominique sit under observation for a bit, but that she would be free to go shortly and didn't require being admitted as long as all of her vitals returned to normal now that she'd drank a vial of the calming draught.

"It's possible it was simply a one time incident," Pomfrey was saying as Dominique sat on a hospital bed moments after she'd ingested the potion. "No need to think otherwise."

Louis made a face as if to say that was a load of rubbish. He was sitting in the chair beside her bed; his expression was very much, " _Heard that before_." He probably had once he started being plagued with them, but it certainly hadn't been a one time incident for him.

She'd gotten a flash of a broken memory then. Louis was at St. Mungo's. She could tell by the clothes he was wearing that he was smaller, probably around seven or eight. He'd been sitting in a room with a young Healer who had kind eyes and wanted to ask him some questions. He didn't want to answer them, but their mother sat beside him and gently urged him that it was safe to talk to the Healer.

From her own memories, Dominique could remember that time in their lives. Her brother had always been a rather anxious as a child. He was always oddly afraid that something was going to happen to him and everyone he loved, which had started once he'd begun to ask questions about the war and Voldemort. He'd learned what an orphan was due to their close relationship with Teddy, and he became rather terrified of it happening to them since it was apparently as easy as having one awful accident occur. He'd gone so far as to spend nights for months in their parents room because he was afraid something would happen to them if he didn't.

But it got worse when the truth about their father's scars truly resonated with him. Once he found out they were caused by a werewolf, that became his obsession—but not in a good way. He would read endlessly about them, now assuming that werewolves would spring out at him at any moment and do the same to him as they did to their dad. This was only made worse by the fact that Victoire and Ted had also gone on their own werewolf fact finding mission once discovering Ted's father was one. For them it had been interesting and informative; for Louis, listening in on their conversations, that was now two werewolf events within close proximity to his life. He became convinced he was next.

By the time he was eight, he'd started having small anxiety attacks when he became overwhelmed, which always Dominique found rather scary. He stopped sleeping at night. When he did sleep, he would have these terrible nightmares. He would wet the bed. He would wake up screaming. Dominique could remember being woken in the middle of the night by her brother's sobbing or her parents rushing upstairs to tend to him. She could remember the countless number of nights she would hear the creak of her bedroom open to find Louis looking distraught, obviously having had another nightmare. When they were eight, he probably spent more time sleeping in her bed with her than in his own. His anxiety was starting to consume him and make him a nervous wreck. That was when her parents had finally gotten him to see someone.

As soon as he'd started talking to someone and gotten on the right potion regime, it was as if they were dealing with another person entirely. He was happy, friendly, problem free; a precursor to the cool, charming, confident person he would eventually become. No one would have ever known they were the same person. It almost became a distant memory, though when he slipped up and forgot his potions , Dominique found the same anxious little boy was always still lurking inside. The nightmares were always still waiting.

And now here she was. Having anxiety attacks, worrying, sleeping terribly, tossing and turning; her dreams now strange and complicated. This was starting to feel very familiar.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Dominique asked."What if these attacks start happening frequently? What if it's not a one time thing?"

"Well," Pomfrey said, gathering empty vials and rubbish to discard of them across the room. "If they were to become chronic and similar to what your brother experiences, then you'd have to be evaluated by a Healer. They would set you up with an appropriate potion routine to manage things."

She'd excused herself after that, and Louis watched her go. When he turned back to his sister, he sarcastically muttered, "Wonderful. As if you aren't taking enough new potions."

She almost asked him what he was talking about since her head was still a bit fuzzy, but it thankfully occurred to her that he'd been referring to the love spell potion that he was still taking daily. The same potion he was under the impression she was also taking to help with their spell damage. Ever since returning to Hogwarts, it had become much easier to keep him from noticing that she hadn't ever taken a drop.

"You have been taking that potion, haven't you?" he suddenly asked her. He must have detected the confusion on her face once he'd brought it up.

"I...yeah."

"Huh…" he said blankly, his now face pensive. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if it's actually helping. I'd have thought I'd have noticed more familiar feelings by now if it was, but I'm still struggling to process things as I used to. I'm still noticing little things here and there that aren't normal. You having this anxiety attack shows it hasn't changed much for you. Not to sound negative, but you almost might be getting worse."

"No," Dominique said quickly, shaking her head and feeling the need to double down on the lie. "Today was...a fluke, I'm sure. It's clearly not an overnight fix. It takes time. I mean, my flying's getting better."

That wasn't a lie, thought it wasn't the truth either. "So much so that I was willing to play today, so…" She shrugged. "We shouldn't give up."

Louis stared at her for a long and curious moment. " Yeah. Maybe."

"In fact," Dominique offered, her tone taking on a breezy quality, "I forgot to take the potion this morning." She started nodding. "Yeah, see, I was so keen to get down to the pitch to practice and I forgot. I forgot yesterday, too, so this anxiety thing is probably just the result of me not staying on the routine."

"Don't let Pomfrey hear you say that," Louis said, watching as the matron returned to change the sheets on a nearby cot. "She does not take kindly to people missing their potions."

Dominique grinned as she attempted to get Pomfrey's attention to ask a question she suddenly had. "If I have another attack, do I have to wait until I keep experiencing them over and over again before I'll be evaluated?"

Pomfrey nodded, frowning a little. "Unfortunately yes. They'd have to determine it was a chronic problem. But again, there's no reason to believe it will happen again. And if you have one here at school, I have plenty of Calming Draught I can administer." She turned to Louis. "Speaking of draughts, you haven't come to collect any of yours in some time, Mr. Weasley. I've noticed you're taking your potion for spell damage, but are we simply ignoring your anxiety potions now?"

"Oh," Louis said, looking a little surprised. "Right. Yeah. Well, I haven't…" He let his gaze settle awkwardly on his sister, "...needed them."

Dominique and he stared at each other—him looking a bit sheepish and her looking completely unsurprised to hear that. Of course he didn't need them. She'd gone ahead and taken all of them off his head for him. She didn't say it, but she had to wonder if perhaps this also should have tipped him off that his spell damage potion wasn't working as he assumed. If it was, wouldn't his anxiety have returned?

"Mr. Weasley, just because you're having a few good days does not mean you're in the clear," Pomfrey said sternly. "You're well aware of how bad it can get if you neglect your schedule. I'm going to fetch your latest batch and I insist you take them with you. Until I hear otherwise, these are Healer's orders."

Louis said nothing as she turned to walk off, though he waited until she was just out of earshot before saying, "You may not be the only one who needs to be evaluated. She won't get off my back unless I do."

"You still haven't had a dream since it happened, have you?"

He shook his head.

"Right," she said with a nod. "Obviously."

"Are you dreaming? Or having nightmares?"

"Not yet, but the day is still young."

"Keep taking that potion and hope for the best," he suggested, just as Pomfrey returned with a small box for Louis—the same box he'd gotten every month for years and—Dominique assumed—her future.

Pomfrey was lecturing him about the importance of staying on his schedule when the door to the hospital wing opened and in walked a very worse-for-the-wear looking Zara. She was accompanied by Reggie Avery, who was supporting her, and wincing in pain and holding her right arm. Her entire right side was scratched up and bleeding in places.

"What happened?" Louis asked, standing to meet them as Pomfrey made her way over to inspect.

"Nasty fall," Reggie said. "Fell off her broom at about thirty feet."

"She fell?" Dominique asked, sounding surprised. She was fairly certain Zara was capable of doing back flips on her broom while blindfolded. Her falling didn't seem right at all.

"Rustier than you thought, then?" Louis asked. "It had been awhile."

"No," Zara said, her face even more pained as Pomfrey proceeded to gently move her arm, causing her to recoil and inhale sharply. "Her—" She pointed to Domninique, "—stupid boyfriend got me with a Bludger. Caught me off guard and hit me square in the back. I took a tumble and broke my arm hitting the ground."

"And a collarbone by the looks of things," Pomfrey offered, gesturing for her to sit on the bed across from Dominique. "Still better than a head. Let me go and fetch some things. Sit here, dear."

Louis was making a funny humming noise as he turned his gaze onto his sister, "That boyfriend thing caught on quick, didn't it?"

Dominique ignored him, but found herself rather pleased to know that Jack had managed to take out Zara. If he was aiming for her, then she must have been performing as well as everyone anticipated. While that wasn't a good sign for Gryffindor, eliminating her from the match would have looked terrific from the scouts' perspective.

"Is the match over?"

Zara was focused on her arm, though Reggie answered, "No. It's still going on. Slytherin was up by over two hundred when we left. Zara and Erin were crushing your lot."

"Your Keeper needs work," Zara muttered, her eyes closed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were playing today?" Louis asked. "Kept that rather tight-lipped."

"As we told her earlier," she said, nodding to Dominique, "That was our strategy. Erin's idea from the get go to keep me on the roster. She's very clever like that. And while we didn't advertise the fact, it's not as if the roster wasn't available to anyone who wished to see it." She shrugged, which made her wince. "Ians should have thought ahead. That was his second mistake today."

"What was his first?" asked Dominique.

"He switched out Potter mid-match."

"What do you mean?" Louis asked. "He switched him to what?"

Zara looked up, but at Dominique, "He started him at Chaser, and Gryffindor was actually doing well keeping up with us. Him and Bernie Eatins were working overtime and obviously tiring themselves out, but they kept it close. Since you weren't there, he started that one kid at Seeker. The little one with dark hair."

"Rory?"

"Maybe," Zara said. "Anyway, after the first half hour, the Snitch had appeared three times—that's what Reggie said."

"It kept appearing," Reggie interjected, "but no one managed to get it."

"So, Jack," Zara continued, "switched Potter over to Seeker and that Rory kid over to Chaser. I can see why he did it. He assumed the Snitch would keep appearing and Potter would end the match while the points were close. But Erin and I naturally took advantage when Gryffindor only had one real Chaser. We probably put up a hundred points within minutes. We were up by two hundred not long after" She looked smug. "We were putting the match away, so it didn't matter if they caught the bloody Snitch. But that was when Jack stopped me. Took me right out. Fucker."

She stopped to examine her arm a bit more. "But here was the flaw in his plan. Once I got taken out, you would think that would have been Gryffindor's time to attack with your Chasers and run the score back up in your favor. But instead of doing that, you've got Eatins exhausted from carrying the score on his own, and you've got Potter stuck at Seeker with his thumb up his bum waiting for the Snitch when he could have been—"

"Running up the score," Dominique muttered, realizing now where the issue was. Once a player was switched out, they couldn't return to their original position. You could theoretically play every position on the pitch in one match, but never twice in the same match. You couldn't go back.

"Right," Zara said, now letting Pomfrey work on her arm. "He messed up. I wouldn't count on a Gryffindor comeback. If your lot swings that, then I'll legitimately be impressed." She eyed Dominique. "What happened to you anyway?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, though at the same time Louis said, "Let's call it a side effect of the second task."

Zara's demeanor, which had still been in rivalry mode from the match, suddenly softened. It was as if just mentioning the tournament and the problems it had caused made her suddenly sympathize greatly. "You're joking?"

"Wish I was," Dominique muttered.

Zara sighed in a way that sounded so tired. "Absolutely awful. It's not even fair because you didn't even ask for any of it." She looked at Louis and the two of them seemed to have some sort of shared thought that made them both frown. "I was thinking earlier about how nice the break had been. How normal Quidditch felt and how much I missed it."

"Yeah," Louis agreed. "The break has been nice, but it's also been difficult since..." He gestured to Dominique and himself, obviously alluding to their plethora of new issues.

"Yes, right, of course," Zara said. "I probably sound awful talking about how much I've enjoyed the break while I'm the bloody front-runner and have come out of it mostly unscathed. If anyone should be happy it's getting ready to pick back up, it's me. I sound ungrateful."

"Can't help how you feel," Reggie offered. "You're allowed to care that you've missed things this year."

She was nodding a little solemnly as she glanced back at Louis. "And the tournament will be back before you know it. The other schools will be arriving soon enough."

"At least we're at home this time," Louis offered. "But it'll be nice to see the others."

"It will," Zara said slowly, as she watched Louis' face. "You're probably excited to see some people more than others, I assume."

He shrugged. "I suppose. I'm excited to see them all. It's funny how they're all pretty cool in their own ways."

A clear look of confusion had passed over Zara's features, but she didn't say anything. She instead let her gaze sweep over Dominique rather quickly before Reggie distracted her by asking her if she needed anything. It made Dominique wonder if perhaps she was thinking about Louis' bizarre behavior while in France, and whether she was about to see it again soon.

It was shortly after that that Pomfrey permitted Dominique to leave. While Dominique's first thought was to go and catch the end of the match, she'd been instructed to relax and take it easy for the rest of the day. The Calming Draught that was now surging through her worked best if she kept her heart rate down, and walking out to see Gryffindor lose certainly would not do that.

She and Louis instead walked back up to a nearly empty Gryffindor Tower, catching only a handful of people sitting around and enjoying the late morning. Among them was Sarah, who was dressed in scarlet and gold as if she'd been at the match earlier. She stood when she saw them.

"Hey," she said, walking over to Dominique specifically. "Is everything alright? I'd heard what happened from Flynn. That Jack came up into the stands in a panic to fetch him," she pointed at Louis without looking at him, "and said you'd had an anxiety attack."

Dominique nodded, watching as Sarah and Louis exchanged a cold sort of acknowledgement of each other. "Yeah. I'm fine now. It's nothing to worry about."

Sarah didn't seem to completely believe that. "Are they the same kinds of attacks he has?"

"Had," Dominique said. "Seems we've swapped another thing. I've traded flying and dreamless nights for his anxiety attacks and…" She shrugged.

"I mean, you can also read much quicker and your marks are up," Louis offered, clearly not wanting to seem as if he'd only given her rubbish in this mishap. "It's not all bad."

Sarah ignored him, and he took that as a sign that he was no longer wanted around this conversation. He told Dominique to take it easy and that he was going to catch the end of the match, leaving her now with Sarah. They went to sit and Sarah started talking of what she knew of Louis' anxiety issues; the two times she had witnessed Louis have an attack when he'd skipped his potions and how scary they'd been. Dominique began catching her up on all of the little differences she'd noticed over the last few weeks; how some had come straight away and others—like the attack today—were sort of waking inside of her the more time passed.

Shortly after, the portrait hole swung open and a very somber looking crowd of Gryffindors filed in post-match.

"Shit," Dominique muttered, already knowing exactly what those frowns meant.

"When I left," Sarah said, "things weren't looking good."

"Who caught the Snitch?" Dominique yelled out to no one in particular.

Someone said, "Potter," while someone else said, "Us, but it didn't matter." Freddie Weasley had appeared, his face painted in scarlet and gold, and flat out asked her, "Where were you? Aren't you the Seeker?"

The team returned a half an hour later. There were a few pitiful cheers—some sarcastic—but no real response other than people turning to observe them. Eatins and Kenley looked as if they were ready to drop dead; the latter of whom went straight to the girls' dorm without a word to anyone. Tommy told someone to "Piss off," before heading upstairs, while everyone else either followed suit or went to join their groups in various corners of the room.

Jack had walked straight over to where they were sitting on the sofa, looking completely defeated as he stood there. They stared at one another, and while she didn't necessarily want to bring it up the match, it also seemed strange not to.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, which had taken her by surprise since— for a few brief moments—she'd forgotten all about her attack.

"Better. How are you?"

"I've been better."

"Hey, mate," said Flynn, who along with Natalie had appeared once Jack had. "You played like a beast out there. That hit on Zara was incredible. Don't go beating yourself up because we lost."

"We lost because I made a stupid decision," Jack said, completely deadpan and pushing his hand through his sweaty hair. "My fault. I fucked up." He looked away. "I'm taking a shower then crawling into a bloody hole. If anyone needs me—don't."

As he walked away, everyone left in his wake exchanged glances of silent understanding. None of them were about to poke that bear given his mood.

Dominique sat for only a moment longer before standing and quickly following after him. He'd made it halfway up the stairs when she called out. "Hey, would you fancy some company?" She immediately followed with, "Not in the shower. That's not...After? Do you want some company after?"

He turned to look at her, a deep breath escaping him that seemed to stem from exhaustion more than anything else. "If you feel like putting up with me. Fair warning, I'm not in much of a mood to talk."

"I'm not either," she said, already tired of all the faces and the people and the questions. Her potion had calmed her, but had left her feeling lethargic and sluggish. Peace and quiet and silence actually sounded rather lovely. "I think after our days, we've earned a bit of uncomplicated silence."

She could have sworn she saw him grin a little before he told her he'd be out of the shower in ten minutes. It was enough time for her to return to her own room and change out of the Quidditch robes she'd never needed that day. By the time she'd gone back to the boys' side of the dorms, she'd found Jack in his room; he was pulling a t-shirt over his head and still looking as defeated as earlier. He did, however, look much cleaner.

"Did you hear I switched out Potter?" he asked.

She nodded.

He hummed, as if surprised to hear that. "Thought you'd have more to say about that. I was ready to get an earful."

She shrugged. "What good will that do?"

He made a funny face, and she immediately knew what he was thinking. Not being able to change things hadn't ever stopped her from going hard on him in the past. And maybe it was the calming draught or the fact that she genuinely realized yelling would serve no purpose, but she didn't see the point.

She instead smiled as she walked over to where he stood. "Saw Zara in the hospital wing. Told me you broke her arm."

"The ground broke her arm," he said as he plopped down onto his bed.

"Still." She smiled as she sat beside him. "Well done. She wasn't happy about it. Definitely heard the word 'Fucker' come out of her mouth."

"I honestly expected worse. Erin called me a lot worse right after it happened. She's got some really creative swear words, that one."

"Perhaps Zara was holding back," she offered. "She has to know I'm not about to sit there and listen to her tear you up for playing well."

"I did well as a Beater, but shit as a captain," he muttered, rubbing his face so hard it was as if he was trying to rub it off. "But fuck it, I don't want to talk about Quidditch right now. I need to shut down for an hour or so."

She nodded as if she understood, watching as he pulled himself up to the head of his bed to rest against his pillows. He'd moved over, and she knew then that he was leaving room for her to sit beside him. She was past the point now of overthinking these gestures and questioning what he actually wanted. She knew what it meant. They both knew their role now.

She climbed up beside him, though neither said anything. It was a comfortable silence, but she still reached over to turn on Louis' nearby radio to a random station for some background noise. She'd even found a music magazine he'd kept on his nightstand to flip through and proceeded to start reading it over.

She'd barely gotten more than four or five pages in before Jack started glancing over to randomly comment on some of the photos. The two began jumping from article to article and commenting on every stupid outfit or interesting interview inside. One particularly large color photograph of the band Vraa had given them both a laugh.

"They look like they sound," Jack said, having taken the magazine to observe the photograph up close.

"So, shitty?"

He laughed from his spot, where his head was resting against her arm. He was partially using her body as a pillow to prop his head up for a better view and seemed rather comfortable. She actually felt she would be more comfortable if she stretched her arm a bit, but she didn't want to because she didn't want him to move away.

The door to the room opened then, and in walked Flynn and Natalie. Natalie smiled at the pair of them while Flynn made a production of averting his eyes, as if he'd walked in on something inappropriate. When he realized he hadn't, he did nothing more than laugh. "I was about to give you shit for not putting a sock on the door or something. But it seems you're being good."

"Seems like it," Jack said lazily, not even lifting up his head as he turned another page of the magazine.

"Well, don't let us ruin your sweet little moment."

"We won't," Jack muttered, his eyes never leaving the page in front of him.

Natalie was smiling a little too obviously. "It is nice to see you two are back to...whatever."

"Yeah, maybe this time keep away from Davies and you two can make it work," Flynn joked, earning him a glare from Dominique that didn't go unnoticed. Natalie had the good sense to push him along and toward the door, though he felt the need to add, "What? It's good advice. I'm happy they're together. I want it to stay that way," before she managed to get him out.

Dominique was already rolling her eyes when Jack quipped, "Believe it or not, he means well."

She glanced down at the top of his head, noticing that he was checking out a list of the top current wizarding rock songs. A silence now hung in the air as he continued to rest his head on her. Given everything and everyone continually making a topic of it—and everything that had happened that day—it only made sense for one of them to ask the obvious question. She may as well just do it.

"Are we together?"

He didn't answer immediately, though he did shut the magazine. After several seconds, he looked up at her. "I never know how to answer that."

"How do you want to answer it?"

He pulled himself up to sit and look at her. "You know how I want to answer it. This was always your choice."

She stared at him. It had always been her choice. A choice she'd run through the mud and set on fire, but she'd still managed to somehow salvage it. If she was going to take this leap with anyone, it had to be him. She couldn't imagine anyone else who'd be patient enough to put up with her nonsense and still be waiting on the other end for her. She couldn't imagine anyone who would do all that and still manage to look at her as if it was all worth it.

She nodded. "Alright, then."

He looked her in the face, his brow furrowed. "'Alright, then'? What does that mean?"

"It means...Yes."

He blinked. "Yes, you want to…?" He sat up straighter. "I want to make sure I understand what you're saying."

She laughed a little. "Yes, alright. Let's..." She gestured between the two of them. "You know."

"No, I don't know," he said, though he was smiling. He seemed especially keen to hear the words come out of her mouth.

She feigned a groan, as if he was bothering her. But, she at least owed him a proper ask after everything else. "Fine. Do you fancy, perhaps, making a thing of this? Properly, that is? You and me?"

He shrugged a little, his face blank. "I dunno. Can I think about it?"

She swatted him, which made him laugh and immediately move forward to kiss her. She could have cursed him, but she found she was over it rather quickly after his lips were pressed on her for several seconds. A goofy smile had started to crawl across her face. It was time to stop running.


	12. Partial Honor

Jack had rebounded quickly after his disappointing Slytherin loss, and within days had already started planning ahead for Hufflepuff. They'd spent much of the next few weeks out on the pitch, either up bright and early practicing her flying like always or sitting around and discussing strategy. On this particular Saturday, after a morning already spent on their brooms, they had retreated to the stands to sit once people had started appearing for Open Pitch time.

That had been at Dominique's insistence. She still was not prepared to have witnesses to her abysmal lack of skills that weren't improving as she liked. She'd gotten a bit faster and slightly more control, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much. She still held out hope that things could be turned around, but as each day ticked by, that hope was starting to dwindle.

Still, she didn't mind being out there watching others practicing or enjoying a nice morning on their own brooms. Jack had gone to retrieve the Gryffindor playbook from the changing room and returned to work on it; talking about his Hufflepuff plan once again.

"We need to score as much as possible," he was telling her as they sat facing each other with the playbook open between them. He was flipping through the pages and busy scribbling notes to himself. "Run the score up in order to solidify out point lead over Slytherin,"

Dominique nodded absently as she examined the bristles on her broom. They needed a trim, but she simply hadn't had the energy to bother doing it lately. What was the point?

"The more points, the better position Gryffindor will be if Slytherin happens to beat Ravenclaw and we all end up with the same record," he was still saying, reaching out to absently give her knee a rub before scribbling something in the playbook. "Of course, it would be easier if Ravenclaw won and just eliminated Slytherin altogether, but cheering for Ravenclaw isn't something I'm willing to admit to."

She hummed as if to agree. As much as she loved Quidditch and loved that she and Jack could sit and talk about it, her mind was elsewhere that morning. As she watched the sky, which was filled with Quidditch players out to enjoy a morning's fly, as well as little first-years and other casual fliers working on broom skills, she was reminded of such a simpler time in her life. She actually found herself rather captivated by a pair of young girls—one of them with hair as blonde as her own—doing small laps and working hard to become more proficient. It reminded her of a time that seemed so long ago, but really wasn't.

"We'll need Potter to stay at Chaser this time if we're looking to maximize scoring potential," Jack continued. "I'll have to have someone else be Seeker."

She glanced back at him. He was still busy scribbling in the book and clearly had not meant that a thinly-veiled plea for her to step up. He wouldn't ask her this time; she knew that. If she suggested doing, he could probably be convinced, but she wasn't ready to do that either—even if it was Hufflepuff. She wanted so badly to be ready, but the fact was that she wasn't. Not at all.

"Rory can do it because it doesn't matter if we get the Snitch or not," he said, finally looking up at her. "If we put up the amount of points we were capable of, we'll win regardless. This isn't like Slytherin running the score up and us needing to stop them from getting the Snitch. Shit, let Hufflepuff have it. We'll still win."

It was nice that he kept saying 'we', despite the fact that she hadn't even been to a practice in ages or had anything to do with the team outside of these little strategy chats with him. That was her role—by choice—these days. She was a soundboard for him to bounce ideas and questions off of.

"And I know what you're thinking," he continued. "That sacrificing the Snitch is giving up 150 points. And we need points, so why give it up so easily?"

She stared at him.

"You're not wrong," he said, even though she hadn't said anything. "But it's a sacrifice we have to make this time. I'm stealing Slytherin's strategy and focusing entirely on the Chasers and giving up on the Snitch."

Dominique forced a lazy smile. "Never tell a Seeker to give up on the Snitch."

"Sorry," he said, smiling at her before he suddenly put his quill down. He shut the playbook before again reaching out to again affectionately rub both of her legs. "You alright? You're awfully quiet."

"Yeah," she said, feigning more excitement that she currently possessed. "Sometimes it's just…" She shrugged as she glanced out at all the people happily flying around, "hard, I suppose. Especially when I see eleven-year-olds who only just started making more progress than I am."

"You're better than that," Jack said, now watching the sky as well. "You honestly are so much better than you think you are and you've come so far in a few weeks. In a few months, you'll—"

"It'll take me ages to get back to where I once was," she muttered. "And that's if I practice every day for a year."

He didn't say anything to that but continued to rub her knee. She could appreciate that he wasn't trying to bullshit her into thinking this was an overnight fix and all it took was hard work. He knew better; they both knew how long it would take for her to get back to where she once was and that her only hope was a reversal of the damage that had taken away her ability in the first place.

She caught his eye and smiled; no longer wanting to be the buzzkill even if that was how she felt. She leaned over and pushed his hair back before she kissed him, hoping that it would change her mood since it usually did.

They'd been together for three weeks now and things were wonderful. This moment excluded, she'd been the happiest she'd been in ages. Everything was amazing. The drama was gone. The questions were gone. The awkwardness was...well, it was mostly gone. They still had things to work out around Louis since he and Jack slept five feet from each other and that limited things, but the awkwardness between the two of them was gone.

They spent a lot of time together. She'd always taken the piss on people who went and disappeared into a new relationship because it seemed so dumb, but she totally understood now. She wanted to be with him all the time, even when they weren't doing anything. When she had to be elsewhere, she counted down the minutes until she could see him again; she never seemed to tire of him. And this wasn't only when they did the fun stuff—like the private conversations, the jokes, the sex—it also applied to the boring parts—like studying and preparing for the awful exams that were slowly closing in on them. As long as he was around, things were better.

She hadn't had any more anxiety attacks since the day of the Slytherin match, but she hadn't been in any particular high stress situations either. Her dreams were becoming more and more strange, and Jack had to wake her at least twice now after hearing her thrash a bit in her sleep, but she still had yet to have a nightmare. That wasn't to say she wouldn't, but it hadn't happened yet.

She and Louis had even turned eighteen the previous week, though it had fallen on a school day and had come and gone rather unceremoniously. The papers must have printed Louis' birthday at some point, because—just as with Valentine's Day—gifts from all over flooded in. Dominique noticed that many of hers were related to flying and Quidditch, which stung a bit, but she barely paid much attention to the random well-wishers. She chose instead to focus on the people she did know and care about.

Her parents had sent her and Louis a disappearance bag, which was no bigger than a sack and was apparently bottomless and allowed the user to pack anything and everything away inside. It would apparently make packing up at the end of the year much easier, and Dominique was amused to test it and see that it could, in fact, hold her entire broomstick inside. Her friends had gotten her random treats—including an abundance of black licorice wands that, and she realized this the moment she'd bitten off the tip, she now found absolutely disgusting. How had she ever eaten these? These were awful.

Jack had bought her flowers—lilies, not roses, which was good since she was rather sick of those—claiming he was trying to make up for Valentine's Day. He'd also gotten her a nice Holyhead Harpies shirt and also included his Quidditch Trials Premier Match hat. When she asked him why, he said that he now considered it a birthday tradition to hand it back and forth.

Louis and she rarely exchange gifts on their own birthdays, having called a mutual truce back when they were younger. This year though, he had joked that they had nothing left to give each other anyway, saying, "You've already taken everything I have to offer. The gift we both want is to figure out how to exchange it all."

That would have been an amazing present, and their hopes had even shot up slightly once Professor McGonagall—having grown tired of waiting for word from DiSilva—had them sit with some British Legilimens to see what they could see. There were only two—a male and a female—and they didn't take nearly as much time as DiSilva usually did. While reiterating the same sort of comments Javier always made about their heads being atypical and rather wild, they didn't have much else to say on the matter. Dominique had to wonder if that was because they didn't seem entirely optimistic about a fix. She could sense it in their facial expressions and the way they spoke in hushed whispers to McGonagall about the things they could see. When McGonagall addressed she and Louis after the fact, her face was tight as she told them, "We'll keep trying."

Back at the pitch, Jack had stopped rubbing her knee and let his arms rest casually on her legs. "You want to get going?"

She nodded, feeling as though she'd had enough of watching people fly for the day. Jack stood and reached out his hand to pull her up as well. She let him and they walked back to the changing rooms to drop off all of their brooms and the playbook before walking back up to the castle.

"So, we have to wear our uniform to dinner tonight?" Jack asked as they walked side by side through the entrance to the castle. "When did they say that? It's the weekend."

"They've only said it about a hundred times," she said as the doors shut behind them. "Because of the feast and the other schools arriving, they want us all looking unified and presentable. The note in the common room said they won't even let you in if you're not dressed properly."

"I'm supposed to get a break from my school robes and ties on the weekend," he mumbled.

"Well, it's not every day the Triwizarding School Tournament comes to Hogwarts," she joked, as they headed toward the stairs. It seemed almost strange that the tournament had arrived and that tonight marked the start of the third leg of it. Wasn't it yesterday when Louis' name was coming out of the Goblet of Fire? Now they were almost at the culmination of the entire thing. Within the next two months, not only would this all be over, but also her time here at Hogwarts as well. It wasn't the tournament that was moving quickly, it was this entire year in general.

"Do you have anything you need to work on today?" Jack asked, referring to their never ending pile of school work that, for once in her life, she was entirely caught up on. She'd actually taken to helping Jack do his work—just as Louis had for them for ages.

She shook her head. "Some Runes stuff, but nothing I need to get straight to. Do you?"

He laughed in a tired way. "Everything. Literally everything. Particularly a Herbology essay that's due on Monday that I can't fuck up."

"I can't help you with that, but I can with everything else. It'll let you focus on Herbology stuff."

"I know it's a really sore subject and this is me being selfish, but can I say this you suddenly being really good at school thing could not have come at a better—?""

"Mr. Ians," called a voice from across the entryway.

They'd just reached the start of the stairs before they stopped and turned to see the source of Jack's name. It was Longbottom, who'd appeared from somewhere and was now walking toward them.

"Just who I was hoping to see." He smiled at Dominique and offered a polite, "Hello, Miss Weasley." before returning to Jack. "Would you have a few minutes? I was headed to my office and was wondering if you could join me."

"Um, sure. Yes, sir." He nodded, looking rather surprised by the invitation. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine," Longbottom said with a flash of a grin. "It's just that there's been a lot of talk about you lately in relation to your Quidditch performances. I've had some people reach out to me and I was hoping to get a chance to discuss some of it with you."

"Oh." Jack's entire demeanor had become more relaxed in an instant. "Really? That's…yeah."

Longbottom was nodding. "I've been meaning to have this conversation with you for the last week, but with the tournament arriving and forcing me to move and rearrange other school events due to scheduling conflicts—" He stopped and sighed. "I've been busy. But if you would…?" He urged him to follow.

"Right," Jack said, taking a step toward him before turning back to Dominique. "I'll meet you back upstairs?"

She nodded as he smiled at her before setting off to walk with Longbottom. She watched him go, feeling rather blank all of the sudden. She was fully aware that scouts had been turning up to matches and naturally would have been watching Jack specifically, but something about them now making contact had a rather strange reaction in her. School policy dictated that they weren't allowed to contact players directly, though—as Longbottom had said—they could go through school officials and talk through very specific meetings. It was obvious this process was due to start for Jack soon, but seeing it actually happen created a strange new sensation in her that she hadn't been expecting.

It was...fantastic for him. Really, it was. And while she was incredibly happy and proud of him, she'd be lying if she said it didn't sting. She was still working on a decent takeoff and maintaining control of her broom, and here he was having professional teams seeking him out to speak to him about his future in the sport. Any day now he was due to get an invitation to the Trials, which made Dominique wonder if she would as well. After all, no one outside of a few people at school knew about her affliction—everyone else assumed she was injured in a way she wouldn't elaborate on. She had gotten a decent ranking last summer which worked in her favor, though she'd needed a strong season to solidify an invitation; she hadn't exactly had one of those.

She wasn't even sure what she would do with an invitation if she got one. Show up and be immediately bumped down to the bottom rung? Be laughed at by Sabatino and the other instructors when they saw that she could barely even fly? Would she even go if she received one? She'd be made a fool of and probably be stuck in the dorm where all the shitty players went to get drunk every night.

She didn't want to think about it, so she pushed it out of her thoughts. She instead walked up the rest of the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower on her own.

She entered through the portrait hole and was immediately met with a small crowd all gathered around the Gryffindor notice board; all of them attempting to read some of the new flyers that were being posted. At the center of it all, Louis stood looking as if he was the person responsible for the new messages. That meant he'd come from his weekly meeting with the Heads of Houses and was now posting any important news for the week. The sound of someone distinctly saying, "That's not fair!" rang out above the chatter.

"Relax, I'm only the messenger," Louis said, stepping back to check his flyers. "I don't make the rules. Take it up with McGonagall or Longbottom."

"Completely unfair," said a voice belonging to one of Rosie Weasley's little second-year friends who was now angrily stomping off.

Dominique stepped forward now that people were moving away; at the same time Flynn also closed in to see what the fuss was about. She caught her brother's eye and nodded at him. "What's unfair?"

Louis used his wand to point at a flyer that was announcing the Champions' Ball. It stated that it was apparently taking place three weeks from today.

"A formal evening of dancing and frivolity to celebrate our champions both here at Hogwarts and abroad," Flynn read aloud from the flyer. "Dress robes are required. Fourth-year and above are permitted to attend."

"Fourth-years and above," Dominique repeated. "Not the whole school? Thought this was a school event?"

"Nope," said Louis, just as another young voice grumbled something about 'unfair' and 'stupid' from somewhere behind them.

"Good. They're annoying anyway," mumbled Flynn before he looked over at Louis. "You must be excited, though. Big ball in your honor."

"Partial honor," he said. "And not really. This will be my third. If you've done one, you've done them all."

"You're probably going to need a date," Flynn said. "Got anyone in mind?"

It was an interesting question, and Dominique watched as Louis sighed in a way that seemed to say he had plenty on his mind. He apparently wasn't going to elaborate.

He stepped back then away from the notice board to check his hangings, casting Dominique a look once he was done. "Just so you know, you'll have a part to play in the ball. They told me that. Figured I should break the news to you now."

Her face fell. "What? Why?"

"Because you're my sister and they want to make a stink about me and Zara. They're having our families enter before the rest of us and that means you have to walk in—probably with Vic. I don't know how it works exactly." He smirked. "But it means mum's going to buy you new clothes."

She groaned.

"Probably really, really nice clothes since you know how she gets when she knows people will be watching."

She groaned even louder as Louis reached out and patted her on the back, as if pretending to console her. "So unfair," she said, which made Louis chuckle.

Flynn was now pointing at another new bulletin that Louis had posted. It was smaller than the ball announcement; with everyone focused on that, she'd barely noticed it there.

"Wait, the Camp Out's been moved?"

"What do you mean it's been moved?" Dominique asked, now refocusing her attention. "It's a remembrance occasion. It's always on May 2nd. It has to be on May 2nd."

"Apparently, it doesn't," Louis said. "Because it's been changed to this Saturday. Longbottom was just telling us it's been a real pain to reschedule."

"But it's only the start of April," she said, seeing on the notice that he was absolutely right. The annual Seventh-Year Camp Out had been pushed up nearly a month earlier than usual. In her seven years at Hogwarts, she had never not seen the Camp Out hosted on May 2nd. It was tradition that on May 2nd of every year—the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts—the seventh-year class was invited to the grounds of Hogwarts to spend the evening around a bonfire listening to survivors and participants talk about their experiences and what happened during that evening many years ago.

It was also quite the event because her Uncle Harry would make an appearance and speak. It was well known that he rarely spoke of the battle these days, but he always made an exception for this evening and for Hogwarts' students. It allowed students to get an entirely different perspective on the school they'd been attending for the last seven years. Longbottom, specifically, took it very seriously.

But the highlight for many—which came after the speakers talked—was that students were then invited to spend the evening camping in tents, just as Harry and her Uncle Ron and her Aunt Hermione had during that tumultuous year. It obviously wasn't nearly as rough or rugged as it had been for her uncles and aunt, but it was part of the experience—one most seventh-years tended to take for granted.

Despite the somber nature of the occasion, most of her class would ultimately switch gears rather quickly once the speakers were gone and turn it into an evening of hidden drinking and secret partying. Over the years, that part had become as anticipated as much as seeing Harry Potter,

The bulletin stated that "regrettably" the tournament's unpredictable schedule had caused the May 2nd date to be "undesirable". It also stated that Harry Potter's schedule only allowed him to be available on certain days, and that this weekend had been chosen as a backup in order to accommodate him and allow for the event to occur.

Flynn groaned from beside her. "But it's supposed to be cold this weekend."

"So? Dress warm," Louis said. "Being cold and uncomfortable is supposed to be part of the experience. You're supposed to put yourself in their shoes and what they went through."

"How much do you want to bet," Flynn said, "that we could all be freezing to death and somehow Longbottom would still bring up how Death Eaters had him sitting in the snow in his socks and we should be thankful we don't have to deal with that?"

Dominique made a face. "I am thankful I don't have to deal with that."

"He has every right to be annoyed if people are complaining about stupid shit during an evening where he's literally telling us about how he was tortured when he was our age," Louis said, shaking his head.

People tended to underestimate how the generally happy and laid-back Longbottom could become stone serious when anyone tried to make light of the conversation about the Battle of Hogwarts. Rumor was that he didn't even care about the after hours drinking as long as you were respectful and attentive during the bonfire part. Some said he would turn a blind eye to what happened in the tents if you were. If you weren't, he would bust things up before they even got started.

"This gives me less time to get Firewhiskey and smuggle it into the school," Flynn sulked. "And you need Firewhiskey for the Camp Out. I was not prepared for this."

"You should go tell Longbottom that," Dominique said. "Really give him a piece of your mind about how inconvenient this is for you."

Look," Flynn said, "Obviously I've got respect and all that for everyone who fought and died and defended Hogwarts. They were all great people. But it was twenty years ago."

"Twenty-one," Louis corrected. "And it really wasn't that long ago. People died. Families wrecked. Ours—" He gestured to Dominique and himself, "being one of them. Sort of a big deal."

"I get it, but again, it's been a really long time. Perhaps we should try and move past."

"You should go tell Longbottom that," Dominique said again. "But make sure I'm not around when you do."

Louis snickered. "Make sure I am."

When Jack returned an hour later from his meeting with Longbottom, Dominique had been keen to hear every last detail of what had been said. He tried to play it off as nothing exciting; a chat about pursuing professional Quidditch and how there were a few people keen to speak to him. Longbottom had informed him of people who were interested in talking to him as early as the upcoming weekend, and Jack had agreed to go along with whatever was set up for him.

What killed Dominique was that he was acting as if this wasn't a big deal; not any different from what that had gone down at the Trials. But it was, and she felt the need to remind him that it was completely different this time. He was almost done with school and these people were serious now. These were no longer casual conversations.

"You are meeting with them, right?" she asked.

"If Longbottom sets it up, sure," he said as they lie in his bed, him hovering over her and attempting to now kiss her. She's swerved to ask him yet another question.

"What do you mean if he sets it up? Did you get a straight answer out of him? He either is or isn't."

Jack rolled over and let himself plop face down into his pillow, evidently realizing she wasn't dropping this or kissing him back. In a muffled voice, he said, "Longbottom said he'd contact them and get back to me. That's it."

"You were gone for over an hour and that's it?"

He picked his head up. "We talked a lot about me and what I want. It really wasn't much more than chat about goals and hopes, with some Quidditch mixed in. It'll be cool if something comes from it, but my morning would have been more productive staying back here and finishing that Herbology essay." He dropped his face back into his pillow. "Speaking of which, I really need to do that."

She pulled herself up onto her elbow to look at him. "Then you should probably be doing that instead of lying around here with me."

He shook his head before lifting it up again to look at her. "No, that's a problem for future me. Present me would rather—" He leaned over and kissed her, "—do this."

"'Future you' is going to hate 'present you,'" she said with her lips pressed up against his.

"He always does, but he'll get over it."

"I'm not even hungry," Sarah said later that night, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stood with Dominique and Jack in the common room, all of them uncharacteristically dressed in their school robes for a weekend dinner.

"It's a feast night," Jack said, adjusting his robe. "Who doesn't enjoy a good feast night?"

"I don't care that it's a bloody feast," Sarah murmured, watching as other Gryffindors began filing out of the portrait hole for the meal that was set to begin in twenty minutes.

Jack and Dominique exchanged quick glances. Sarah had been in a decent mood for most of the day, that is until she had to dress for dinner and realized she was now having to face this tournament business head on. She was clearly not interested in any of it, seeing as the tournament meant Louis would not be the center of attention from here on out.

Dominique hadn't even seen Louis since that morning at the notice board, though Jack had said he'd seen him in the bathroom room getting ready that afternoon; mentioning he'd watched Louis messing with his hair and combing it differently at least four different times. Evidently he was looking to impress.

"So, even though he's on a potion to control this spell," Jack asked her minutes earlier—before Sarah and her grumpy black cloud had arrived to join them, "he still has feelings for this girl?"

"It's a powerful spell and the potion can only help so much, apparently," Dominique said, not quite understanding it herself. "At least this way he's normal about it and not off his head."

"And you said this girl—the Beauxbatons one—seems keen on him?" Jack asked. "Even after all of the weird shit he pulled on her?"

"Apparently so. We'll have to see what happens when she gets here." She shrugged. "Trust me, I don't get it either. You think she'd be happy to be rid of him after all of that, but instead," she let her eyes roll, "she now thinks he's cute."

Jack laughed. "Never underestimate Louis' power with girls. It should have it's own special classification of magical study."

They'd stopped talking about all things Louis once Sarah had turned up, and the topic shifted—as it often did when she was around. Oddly enough, Dominique had actually seen her brother and Sarah talking recently. It was very business-like and entirely about school, but it was talking; they weren't actively avoiding or snapping at each other. Perhaps something could be salvaged from everything, but given the positively disgruntled look on Sarah's face right now, Dominique may have been getting ahead of herself.

"Pudding better be fucking amazing," Sarah finally said, turning toward the portrait hole once she noticed Natalie and Flynn emerge out of the corner of her eyes. "Are you two coming?"

"Be right behind you," Dominique offered, not wanting to mention that she was waiting to see Louis before the evening kicked off. Even without saying it, Sarah's expression already seemed to sense that was the reason.

Dominique and Jack exchanged looks again, though Dominique quickly glanced back at the boys' stairs once she noticed the common room had almost entirely cleared out. "Where is he? He has to come down soon. The feast starts in fifteen minutes."

"I hope there's not a lot of ceremony involved," Jack said. "I'm starving and I'm starting to regret missing lunch."

She threw him a funny smile. "Oh, you now regret what we chose to do during lunch? Because I'll remember that next time, when you're swearing up and down you're not hungry and that you'll be fine."

He was already shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. "I only need to remember to bring a snack next time—like I do with Quidditch." He grinned. "We burned a lot of energy."

"You're comparing sex to Quidditch?"

"Well, I mean, it's fun. It's a workout. It's something I fancy spending my free time doing." He shrugged. "There are similarities."

She supposed that was true, and let her expression say as much. "I guess. Like, the more you work at it the better you get? Or, when someone's bad at it, it's incredibly frustrating?"

"Or," Jack offered. "How I enjoy both activities more when I get to do it with you."

He smiled in a cheeky sort of way, which made her laugh. Those were the sorts of comments she would have rolled her eyes and taken the piss on Louis or Victoire or anyone else for saying, but when he said it, bloody hell if she wasn't charmed. He really could be quite cute.

"Or," she said, still grinning, "how you like to be in charge of both?"

"Or," he countered, "how you like to pretend to be?"

She gaped, which made him laugh before he quickly pulled her over to kiss her. She wasn't entirely huge on big public displays of affection like kissing in front of others—she'd only recently come around on holding hands and little shared touches when people were there—but they both knew they were probably one of the ones in the common room now. Jack had become a master of reading the room and knowing when and where he could get away with this, and she appreciated him playing along.

After a few moments, she felt a flick on the side of her head as someone breezed by the pair of them. When they broke apart, she realized the same had happened to Jack, only presumably harder because he was rubbing the spot on his scalp. The unmistakable voice of her brother followed with, "Get a room."

"You were in it," Jack called after him.

"Gross," Louis said, gesturing for them to come along. "Better get a move on if you don't want to be late for the feast."

"We were waiting for you," Dominique said, immediately noticing that Louis had a rather antsy and bouncy nature about him. He looked completely polished up, she wagered a guess that there wasn't a single wrinkle on his robes. As Jack had said, his hair was combed differently, but he looked great. Perfectly put together and handsome. He'd clearly taken his time getting ready today.

"Well, I'm here, so let's go," he said in a hurried manner, already to the portrait hole.

Jack threw her a look, as if to say, "Wasn't he the one running behind?" She rolled her eyes, noticing that Louis was already a good ten feet ahead of them and had no intention of stopping.

"Want to see me give him a complex?" she asked, nudging Jack in the side. "Hey, Louis! What's wrong with your hair?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around on her. "What do you mean?"

"It's just…" She stopped and pretended to examine it. She even hummed for good measure. "Oh, I mean, it's just...nevermind. It's nothing, really. No one will notice."

"No one will notice what?" he asked, reaching up to feel it. "Seriously? What's wrong with it?"

She laughed and strolled past him, listening as Jack reassured him that it was nothing and that she was taking the piss. "You look good."

"Your tie's a bit crooked," she offered, genuinely noticing that it was a little askew. She reached out to adjust it for him, but he knocked her hand away as if she were an annoying gnat.

"You can't be trusted," he said, messing with his own tie—and making it worse—before he turned to walk off again.

"You look good," Jack reassured him.

"Yes, yes," Dominique offered. "As pretty as a picture and as lovely as always."

"Shut up," Louis muttered as they made their way down the stairs to the entrance of the Great Hall. Standing just outside, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were talking with Zara, who also looked perfectly cleaned up and pretty—not that she didn't always. They all made eye contact with Louis, and seemed happy to see he'd finally arrived.

"Where were you?" Zara asked as she approached him, immediately stepping forward to straighten his tie for him. Dominique noticed she didn't get swatted away.

"Lost track of time," he said once she was finished. When he glanced down to check, he smiled and added, "Thanks."

"Can't have you looking a mess for our visitors," she said, smiling as McGonagall now approached.

"Mr. Weasley, we were about to send out a search party," she said, looking him up and down and presumably happy with how well he'd cleaned up.

"Wouldn't be the first time this year," Dominique joked, though no one seemed to find it quite as funny as she had. Perhaps it was too soon. Jack at least gave her a cursory smile before he grabbed her by the hand and tugged her along and inside, leaving McGonagall to have a last minute word with her champions.

The entire Great Hall was packed, not only with students and professors but with other random guests that Dominique had to assume were from the Ministry or the Daily Prophet. They were all standing along the sides and back of the room, chatting amongst themselves, some with cameras and others with notepads; everyone buzzing about the festivities. The atmosphere was very similar to what it had been the night the Goblet of Fire had chosen champions to begin with, only there were more people here tonight.

Jack led her down the length of the Gryffindor table to where their friends were sitting, happy to see that they'd saved them seats to the best of their abilities. It had still taken some pestering and badgering to get people to shove down for space, but they'd managed as Dominique took the seat between Sarah and Jack. Tommy and two of his friends were already in the middle of recalling having seen the other schools arrive earlier; they were currently sharing the details to everyone within earshot.

"So, out of nowhere, this giant bloody ship just appears in the middle of the lake," Benji was saying. "Just out of the water, as if it were plucked from thin air. Absolutely mad."

"Right?" Tommy was nodding. "But then this giant flying blue carriage thing came in about ten minutes later with all these winged horses pulling it—"

"Abraxans," Kenley corrected.

"Right, those things," Tommy said, "and it just landed on the ground as if that was a totally normal thing for it to do."

"What else should it have done?" Natalie asked.

"I don't know, but it was all really fucking bizarre. There were a bunch of us down there watching. Probably half the school turned up after the ship appeared. McGonagall and Flitwick went down to greet the carriage and this huge woman—" He made a face, "Not kidding when I say she's the tallest woman I've ever seen."

"Because she's half giant," Dominique said, already knowing he was referring to Maxime.

"Wait until you see her," he added to everyone else. "If she can fit in the room."

"She can and has before," Dominique said, noticing that McGonagall was now leading Louis and Zara into the room, both of them smiling and laughing about something. They quickly adjusted themselves into a more serious stance once McGonagall stopped them both at the end of the center aisle between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables; right where Longbottom stood during the Sorting.

Both were now standing up straighter with their hands at their sides as McGonagall spoke to them one last time. When she finished, she nodded and walked over to address Professor Corley, leaving both Louis and Zara to share a funny sort of look before laughing again. This must have all seemed rather silly to do in front of everyone they knew.

McGonagall then commanded the attention of everyone in the room, welcoming everyone to a monumental evening for Hogwarts. It was the same old sort of speech they always got about special occasions, only this time they were "fortunate enough to have the opportunity to be hosting the third leg of the tournament." She could think of no better group to welcome their international visitors than the students staring back at her.

"I know you will all be as warm and welcoming to our guests as they have been to ours," she said. "And while this is, of course, a competition, we must also realize this is an opportunity to learn and grow with our neighboring wizarding schools and the magical community we all belong to. This tournament will bring quite a bit of action and excitement to our school, including the Champions' Ball in three weeks time."

That last part got the room buzzing, with people now excitedly whispering around their tables. From beside her, she could hear Sarah make a grumpy sort of noise.

"Professor Flitwick is in charge of all the details pertaining to the ball," McGonagall continued, attempting to regain control of the room. "He will surely have them available to all of you soon." She smiled briefly before again looking out at the room. "With that, I feel as if we shouldn't keep our guests waiting any longer. Professor Flitwick, if you would?"

Everyone turned toward the back of the room, where Flitwick and Filch were now opening the large doors. Filch had stepped back and out of the way while Flitwick cleared his throat and announced. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is very pleased to welcome our guests from the Durmstrang Institute. Headmaster Alojsy Symanski and their two champions, Mr. Aurick Moser and Miss Maarit Lampinen."

There was a round of applause as everyone sat up in their seats to get a better look. You could practically hear the benches creaking beneath everyone's weight as they all collectively moved at once, watching as a man in a heavy, dark fur cloak and dark hat—even dark trousers and boots—entered first, followed directly by faces that Dominique had only seen before in the newspaper. The tall, striking girl with jet black hair and the slightly shorter, stocky boy with hair so short you couldn't even make it out under the identical fur hats they were wearing. Their robes were both blood red in color and they also had long, fur capes that seemed far more appropriate for the weather two months ago rather than now.

They all seemed so serious as they walked, the applause now dying down and they reached a smiling Louis and Zara at the end of the aisle. McGonagall was standing beside Zara, and was also smiling at the three of them as handshakes and warm greetings were exchanged. Their headmaster's expression remained cool and clipped the entire time, but the champions had warmed considerably once they greeted Louis and Zara. Dominique had caught smiles on both of their faces and noticed they all seemed happy to see each other. The rivalry was apparently quite cordial.

Flitwick had cleared his throat once more, causing everyone to turn back toward him. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is also very pleased to welcome our guests from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. Their headmistress, Olympe Maxime, and their two champions, Mr. Javier Escolera and Miss Amalie Bellamy."

Applause once more as, again, everyone sat up or stood to get a better view. Madame Maxime and all of her very large stature entered first, garnering an audible reaction from many of the Hogwarts' students—including Tommy, who turned back around to say, "See?!"

Behind her, Dominique found herself grinning as the familiar faces of Javier and Amalie entered, both dressed more formally than she'd been used to seeing them at Beauxbatons. Amalie's uniform recalled images Dominique had of her mother in her uniform when she'd arrived at Hogwarts, the pale blue silk robes, cloak, and hat. Even Javi was wearing head to toe blue, though in different shades that included a hat as well. Beauxbatons really did love their hats.

They seemed so stoic and focused, which for Javier especially seemed out of character given his jovial nature. They were mostly looking forward, though they had definitely looked up at the enchanted ceiling upon entering. Dominique immediately wondered if they thought the school was too dark, but she also knew they most definitely did. Compared to the brightness of Beauxbatons, Hogwarts was a tomb.

Like the Durmstrang champions—who were now standing to Zara's left next to McGonagall—they both finally cracked smiles the closer they got to familiar faces. McGonagall and Maxime embraced in a fond but professional manner; Amalie went to immediately greet Zara with a wide smile and kissed her on both cheeks, as Javier warmly greeted Louis. Everyone was smiling and looking less like competitors than old friends as hellos were exchanged. Dominique watched as Amalie and Louis greeted each other politely; she kissed both of his cheeks, which naturally prompted an immediate smile.

Dominique turned to cast Sarah a glance. She was watching the entire scene rather stonefaced.

"We here at Hogwarts are so very happy to have you as our honored guests," McGonagall said, gesturing to the visitors. "While you are here, our facilities are your facilities. Please make yourself at home. To show our hospitality, we would love to invite you to join us for a traditional school feast."

There were nods from both headmasters as if to say how kind an offer, that they would love to, and shortly thereafter, McGonagall was inviting both Madame Maxime and Headmaster Symanski to some spots that had been arranged at the head table. Left below, Zara was now chatting with the Durmstrang students and gesturing for them to follow her toward the Slytherin table; Louis was doing the opposite with the Beauxbatons' pair.

For a brief moment, Dominique had thought he was going to bring them down the table to where they were sitting, but it seemed a spot had been arranged at the start of the table for them all to sit. Javier and Amalie had taken one side while Louis sat across from them, his over-the-top grin visible even from where she sat.

She became distracted once the feast appeared moments later, and it was even greater and more decadent than their usual special occasion feasts. Turkey, roast beef, multiple different dressings and side—essentially anything Dominique could have imagined. It was all very much worth wearing her uniform to dinner on a weekend. She'd tucked in almost immediately, as did everyone else. Everyone but Sarah, that is.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

After pudding had been served, Dominique glanced down the table to see Louis engaging the Beauxbatons champions. Several other Gryffindors—including their cousin, Rosie, and her friends—were also involved now. It seemed they were currently asking something about their hats because Javier had taken his off his head and handed it to Fiona to examine. They were passing it around when Dominique nudged Jack.

"I'm going to go say hello," she said as she stood. He'd nodded in a sleepy sort of way, having helped himself to seconds on almost everything. She could feel Sarah's eyes on her as she walked away, but chose not to acknowledge it as she made her way down to the spot beside Louis, nudging some second-year boy over so she could sit.

"Bonjour!" Amalie said brightly upon seeing her, just as Javier also happily said, "Hola!" He followed with something in rapid fire Spanish that reminded Dominique that the language barrier was still very much a thing. She definitely took that language spell for granted.

"Hello," she said with a smile, though she looked at Louis for the rest. "I didn't catch the Spanish."

"He asked where you've been," Louis said as he pulled out his wand and mumbled a quick, "Sermonius augeo." Within the span of a blink, suddenly all of Javier's Spanish words transformed into English.

"Yes, I was asking where you were hiding amongst the sea of black robes in this very dark room. Is someone allergic to color and light around here? Honest question."

"Weren't you supposed to bring candles?" Dominique asked, smirking at him."We were counting on you."

"The amount of candles I would need would burn this castle down," Javier said as Amalie nodded quickly beside him.

"Beauxbatons has jokes," Louis said, throwing Dominique a look. "They seem to believe we're learning magic in the dark."

"Perhaps you should try it," she said to them, "seeing as all your tasks so far have taken place in dark places. Maybe you'd complete them faster."

Javier started to laugh, "I'm in second place. I think I'm doing alright."

Louis acknowledged that was a fair point, but Dominique was already ready to move on to the topic she'd come over to discuss in the first place. She nodded to Javier and asked, "How's DiSilva? Any new news?"

Javier and Amalie exchanged a quick look, though it was Louis who said, "Yeah, I'm getting more and more convinced that the potion he gave us isn't really doing much. I mean, it's not hurting, but it seems almost a waste of time to keep taking it."

Both Amalie and Javier's faces looked suddenly panicked, though it was Amalie who said, "You have to keep taking it."

"You can't stop taking it," Javier agreed.

Louis' face looked startled, as if he was surprised by such a fervent reaction to his comment. "I just don't see the point, really. I haven't noticed any real changes." He looked over at Dominique. "Be honest, have you?"

Everyone was looking at her now, and she knew she had to keep up the act she'd been playing for weeks now. She nodded. "I think it's just a very slow process. It was some serious spell damage."

"It takes time," Javier agreed. "Do not give up yet. You have to stick it out for…uhhh..."

Dominique and Louis were both staring at him, though he'd already turned to Amalie for some sort of back up. She quickly said, "At least three months."

"Why three months?" Louis asked.

Dominique had wanted to say because Amalie knew she'd be gone by then and wouldn't have to worry, but her and Javier instead came up with some sort of argument connected to the power of the mind and the process of healing. It all sounded very legitimate, and if Dominique didn't know any better, she'd have thought they knew what they were talking about. Louis seemed skeptical, but chose not to push things; especially once Amalie asked him rather abruptly about the purpose of the House Point markers on the wall.

Dominique turned back to Javier, who was half listening to Louis, but turned to meet her eyes once he noticed her staring. She was back to having her mind read, and if it was going to happen, she was going to use it to her advantage. She immediately asked the question she truly wanted to know, whether DiSilva had made any real progress on their spell damage and whether this was actually fixable.

"He's working very hard," Javier said in a low voice. "It's not a simple fix."

"Amazing how he can ruin my life in an instant, but reversing it takes ages," Dominique muttered.

He threw her a sympathetic smile, but she felt more pity coming off of it than she would have preferred. He cleared his throat before adding, "And here I was going to say that you were reading a bit lighter and happier these days." He gestured to her head. "There's definitely a difference up there from when I last saw you."

"Stop reading me," Dominique said, just as Louis butted in and quipped, "It's probably because she's got a new boyfriend. She's been happy about that." When she threw him a silencing look, he shrugged off. "What? You have been."

"That makes sense," Amalie said as Javier nodded in a way that seemed to say he suspected as much. "Like Javi said, I saw something different in there, too, and it's known that love always changes the chemistry in people's brains."

"I think that's been made abundantly clear lately," Javier muttered, letting his gaze flick over to Louis.


	13. Extra Socks

It hadn't been a particularly eventful week leading up to the Saturday of the Camp Out, except for the fact that a giant carriage sat on the grounds and a large ship was bobbing up and down in the lake. The champions being here certainly did add a new topic of conversation around the school, but outside of the occasional run in with them at meals or walking the grounds, they mostly kept to themselves. Louis did manage an introduction for Dominique with the Durmstrang champions, who were actually fairly soft spoken and seemingly lovely. She'd had a few more run-ins with Javier and Amalie, but on the whole she'd found school life seemed as typical as it ever did. Despite the new large vehicles on the grounds.

Louis would go visit the Beauxbatons pair frequently, claiming he was being friendly and hospitable, but Dominique didn't have to be a Legilimen to know what he was really playing at. She had hoped that being back at Hogwarts would have distracted him a bit, but it seemed to actually swing the opposite way. He seemed to spend as much of his free time as he could down by their carriage.

The rest of them barely saw him anymore, seeing as the moment he was done with classes he would head to the grounds. He would join them at meals and take his breaks in the afternoons to find excuses to visit their carriage. It was clear his potion was still working, seeing as his interest in Amalie was less obsessive and more keen, but Dominique was starting to wonder if perhaps more of his spell was leaking through than she'd previously believed. Maybe he needed to double his doses.

"I mean, they're cool and they don't know anyone," Louis said to her and Jack late one night, after he'd been forced back to Gryffindor Tower due to curfew. It had come just after Jack had made a joke that it was nice to actually see his face, and he was surprised he'd torn himself away from his new best friends to visit his old ones.

Louis waved him off. "They were there for me and included me at Beauxbatons, it's the least I can do while they're here."

"Well, Javier was there for you at Beauxbatons," Dominique mumbled.

"It's the right thing to do," Louis added, seemingly not having heard her. He smiled at the two of them. "You two are still my favorites, though."

Dominique threw him a look and Jack laughed before adding, "Well, that's good to know.."

After a quiet moment, Louis suddenly asked, "What do you think about Amalie?" It was clear his question had been specifically directed at Dominique.

"I don't think anything," she said. "Should I be thinking something?"

Louis shrugged as he began examining his fingers in an absent manner. "Just wondering. I think she's really cool."

She sighed and threw Jack a look while Louis wasn't looking. "I feel as if you're trying to tell us something, Lou."

He shook his head. "No...I mean, maybe. I don't know. We've been through some strange stuff. Obviously that cave thing brought us together, and then when we kissed—"

Dominique's eye shot towards him. Even Jack immediately looked at her, seeing as she'd already told him everything Louis had confessed to—including that he lied about that kiss.

"No, you didn't," she said. "You didn't kiss her."

Louis laughed. "Yes, I did."

"You told me you didn't. You said you made it up."

"I did say that," he sighed, "but I realized I may have been wrong. Look, I can't remember what actually happened in that cave. You said it yourself, you can't see anything in my memories. It's a complete blur. The weeks that followed were a complete blur. I barely remember any of it. I think I'd convinced myself that I'd made it up, but I started talking to Amalie about it the other day and she said we did."

"She said what now?!" Dominique asked, now feeling an odd prickling at the back of her neck.

He was nodding. "I mean, think about it, Nic. Why else would I have broken up with Sarah if I didn't actually do it?"

Both she and Jack were staring at him. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? The truth? That the spell—the one he was unaware he was even under—had convinced him he was in love with another girl, so he'd broken up with Sarah in order to pursue that.

But none of that would make sense to him since all of his spell induced memories of Amalie and of being in love with her seemed to have vanished in a haze once he got on this potion. He didn't remember any of it. She literally had no convincing explanation to give him.

Though, Amalie apparently did.

"The way I see it, I can't remember much now, but I must have remembered more right after it happened. It's why I came home feeling so bad about things and confessed to Sarah." He shrugged. "I kissed her, and when I said I didn't, I was confused."

Dominique's head was swimming—no, drowning—now. "And Amalie confirmed this? She told you it actually happened?"

"Yeah, she can remember more than I can from that night," he offered, stretching his arms over his head. "I genuinely can't remember a single thing. That night I did a real number on me."

"You have no fucking idea," she said, feeling herself utterly lost for words. She could distinctly remember Javier telling her that he'd tried to read Amalie's thoughts from the night of the cave and that her mind was dark and blank as well. If there was nothing to see, then what the fuck was she remembering? What was she telling him?

"Anyway, what I was trying to tell you is that I think I might be falling for her," said Louis.

"No, you're not," she said before she could think better of it. It caused Jack to stare at her and Louis to let his head shoot up rather quickly. His brow was properly furrowed now.

"I think I know how I feel."

"You think you know," she said, as she felt Jack tighten his grip on her hand. He was trying to tell her to rein it in, but she couldn't help it. None of this made any fucking sense. Why the fuck was Amalie telling him they were kissing in a cave when all evidence pointed to it never happened?

"Whatever," Louis muttered, standing to leave. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

Dominique found herself at a loss. All she knew was that she wanted to question Amalie the following day to ask her for her side of the story, but there was not a single moment that she saw where she wasn't accompanied by Louis. Every time Dominique saw her—in the corridors, at meals, walking across the grounds—Louis was right by her side.

Other people were starting to notice that Louis was spending an awful lot of time around the girl he'd apparently cheated on Sarah with as well, and they were starting to talk. At lunch—after Dominique, Natalie, and Eleanor witnessed Louis and Amalie sitting down the length of the table looking rather comfortable—Natalie came right out and asked, "Is something going on there?"

Dominique shrugged, but said nothing. There was no simple way to answer that question, so she may as well not. She was actually rather surprised Sarah hadn't filled them in on the details of the love spell and what she had told her, but it seemed as though she really didn't want to talk about anything having to do with Louis. She'd kept the entire matter private.

"Because it seems as if there's something going on between them," Natalie added.

"Seems as if it were more than just a kiss in a cave," Eleanor said matter of factly.

"You have no fucking idea," Dominique said, noticing then that Sarah had entered the Great Hall and was walking toward the group of them. It seemed she couldn't avoid letting her gaze land on Louis and Amalie as she passed, though she didn't even attempt to hide her utter annoyance as she blew past them and came to join the rest of them.

"Hey, Sarah," Natalie said brightly, as if trying to be purposely positive.

"I think I need to pack extra socks for the Camp Out tonight," Sarah said randomly. "It's supposed to be cold."

They all stared at her; Dominique nodded slowly. "That's what I've heard. Yeah."

"It's supposed to be cold," she repeated as she sat down.

Natalie threw her a sympathetic smile. "It is. You really should."

"I will," she said matter of factly before she started grazing over her lunch.

Dominique caught Natalie's eye briefly—both sharing a similar look—before she took a bite of her sandwich and glanced over to watch the entrance to the Great Hall.

It turned out that Longbottom had been completely serious when he'd told Jack he had plans to set him up with some of the people who'd been in contact with him about his Quidditch, and he'd followed through with them almost immediately. The previous day, he'd told Jack that a meeting had been arranged at the Three Broomsticks for eleven o'clock and that it was in his best interest to attend. He'd been gone for over two hours, and she'd assumed he should have finished by now. She wasn't sure how long this sort of thing took, so all she could do was watch the entrance and anxiously wait to hear what he had to say.

"He'll be back soon enough," Sarah muttered, her tone now testy. "Stop worrying so much."

Dominique glanced over at her, wondering where that had come from. "I'm not worried."

"You're watching the entrance like a hawk."

"Still doesn't make me worried," she said, trying her best not set in on Sarah who was clearly not in the best of moods. "And what do you care if I stare?"

"Let her if she wants," Natalie offered. "We've all been there and done the same thing before."

"Done what?" Dominique asked, feeling genuinely confused as to what was happening. "I haven't done anything."

"If Jack's not physically with you, you're always looking for him," Sarah said, her tone growing more pointed. "It's as if you can't bear to be apart for more than five minutes—"

"No, I don't!" she said defensively. "And even if I did—which I don't—this has nothing to do with me and him and everything to do with him meeting with Quidditch people at this very moment. I want to know what's happened."

"Whatever you say."

"Oh, don't you dare," Dominique said, throwing all of her reservations out the window if Sarah was actually going to come at her for this of all things. Had she forgotten how she'd practically burrowed inside of Louis for the first few months they were together? Because she had no qualms reminding her.

"We've all done it!" Natalie reiterated a little louder. "All of us are guilty of it and there's nothing wrong with being in that early, honeymoon stage where all you want to do is be together. It's normal." She looked from one to the other. "And she's right, Sarah. You really have no room to talk."

Sarah rolled her eyes and said nothing, instead now poking around at her lunch with no obvious intention of eating it.

Natalie caught Dominique's eye again, as if to silently will her to back down and let it go this time. Dominique must have been in a good mood because she was actually willing to relent to Natalie, of all people. She instead focused back on her sandwich as an awkward silence fell over the group of them.

"I say enjoy it while it lasts," Natalie finally said. "Because before you know it, everything he does will annoy you, and you'll wonder what you were thinking in the first place."

"That's the truth," Sarah muttered.

Dominique looked up from her sandwich at the both of them, wondering where any of this was coming from? Why was everyone in such bleak, depressing moods right now?

"That was a Flynn specific comment," Eleanor explained, sensing Dominique's confusion. "Nat's over him. Over it all."

"Are you admitting it now?" Sarah asked, and Natalie was already nodding without a trace of hesitation.

Dominique stopped herself from saying that it was about time; instead choosing to mumble, "I still don't understand why you even bothered in the first place."

"Because everyone else around here was taken," Natalie said as if attempting to explain herself. "It's the same old faces and the same old people and…" She sighed. "I'm just ready to graduate and travel and meet new people. That's all I want. New people. New experiences. New everything."

"Without Flynn, it seems."

She made an obvious face. "Without Flynn. I plan on breaking up with him in a few weeks."

"Why are you waiting a few weeks?"

"Because I need a date to the ball," she said plainly. "And it's too late to find another one."

"For fuck's sake..." Dominique muttered while Sarah said, "You're not serious, are you?"

"What?" she said, looking as if they had no right to judge her. "It's easier this way."

"Just skip the whole bloody ball like I am," Sarah said. "Why put up with a date you don't even want so you can fit in? What a waste of time."

"You're not going to the ball?" Dominique asked her. It caused Sarah to laugh as if that were a dumb question, and Dominique followed with, "Why not?"

"Because my idea of a good time does not involve a night celebrating my ex-boyfriend while he hangs off some other girl." She tossed her sandwich onto her place. "I would rather have my toenails pulled out one by one."

"But there's...other stuff," Dominique offered, not entirely sure what she meant by that. "You can hang out with me."

Sarah laughed again. "And Jack too, right? And while I love you both dearly, right now you two are not my favorite people. You're still too new and no one exists outside the two of you. You would forget I was there within seconds."

"Stop," Dominique said, feeling a little insulted at that. She refused to believe she was that bad. "My whole family will be there, so it's not as if we'll be fucking on the dance floor."

"Your whole family is coming?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, my parents and probably Vic. Louis said something about it the other day. Why wouldn't they? It is his night, after all."

"Which is why I have no desire to go," Sarah reiterated.

"If you ignore that part—"

"How would that even be possible?"

"It won't be so bad."

"I'm not going."

Dominique scoffed. "I cannot believe—"

"Believe it."

"Woah," Natalie said suddenly, causing them both to look at her. "Did you two switch brains at some point, too?"

She and Sarah didn't speak much for the rest of lunch, not that it stopped them from both going back to the common room and sitting together on the sofa in silence. They split a copy of the Daily Prophet between them, with Sarah reading up on current events and Dominique checking over the sports section. It was typical of them to passive aggressively ride out their annoyance with each other right beside the other. Eventually one of them would tire of it all and things would return to normal.

Jack had returned not long after, though Dominique had been so wrapped up reading an article about injuries plaguing Puddlemere as of late that she hadn't noticed until he slid in beside her on the sofa. He'd immediately put his arm around her as she turned to look at him. He did nothing more than smile.

"And?" she asked.

"Hi to you, too."

"And?" she repeated.

"And…" He let his head bob rock back and forth as if he was purposefully taking his time. "And it was pretty cool. They were nice blokes."

"Aaaaand?" she said, letting the paper fall into her lap. "Who? What? Why? How? What did they say?"

"They remembered me from the Trials," he said, glancing over at Sarah who was also now attentively listening. "They'd been impressed with me then, and they've been keeping tabs ever since. They're looking to build up a stronger Beating core, and I'm apparently a top candidate."

"Wow," Sarah said, her tone sounding genuine for the first time since that morning. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means I'd have a great chance of starting," he said, which made Dominique's jaw drop.

"Starting?" she said rather awestruck. "No reserve league? Just straight to it?"

"I'd have to train with the team and stuff and technically earn the starting spot, but they seem to believe it would be a lock for me. Apparently, they're really hurting for Beaters."

"Who is?" Dominique asked, just as Sarah also said, "Yeah, what team is this?"

Jack sighed, averting his eyes downward. "That's the thing. It's a German team."

He looked up and caught Dominique's eye as he said it, his expression rather unsure. She found herself feeling as though she heard him incorrectly, and stared at him while her brain began to process that. But Germany was a Portkey away? That's...wasn't here.

"Wow," said Sarah. "So, would you have to move to Germany?"

"Ultimately, if I signed with them. Yeah. Problem is—and I see what they're doing—they're trying to get in with me before the Trials this summer, where I can talk to other people. Longbottom warned me about it. Said while it's not against the rules for them to speak to me if arranged, it's generally frowned upon by a lot of organizations if they make initial offers. He told me that some teams, who may also be interested, wouldn't contact me because they'd be waiting for the Trials to do it. So, while this may seem like my only bite, there could be other opportunities."

Dominique still said nothing, though Sarah was nodding as if she understood. "Right. So, maybe it's best if you wait for the Trials and see all of your options. Maybe something closer to home?"

"That's what I'm thinking, but these German people are trying to sweeten the pot by already telling me I'm all but guaranteed to start and quoting me potential salaries and signing bonuses if I skip the Trials entirely and sign after I graduated, which…" His expression grew surprised. "I won't lie and say the money wasn't a bit overwhelming."

"Yeah, but it seems a bit shady that they don't want you to entertain other offers at the Trials," said Sarah.

"It does a bit, yeah," he said, nodding. "But from everything I've seen so far, they check out as a reputable team, so I'm not sure. Maybe they're really keen on me. I'd like to stay closer to home, but I also don't want to start in the reserves if I'm getting offered a starting position, you know?"

"But maybe someone in the British or Irish league will offer you a starting position," Sarah said. "But you'd never know if you jump on the first people who offer you something."

"Right, but maybe they won't," he countered. "It's complicated, but Longbottom said he can put me in contact with some advisors." He glanced back at Dominique, who still hadn't said anything. "He actually said I should talk to your aunt because she would know a lot of people who could help me figure things out. He offered to talk to her tonight since she'll be there for the Camp Out, but suggested that I should ask you to introduce us."

Dominique blinked, still processing everything that had just come out of his mouth. A starting position with a real team straight out of school—that was huge. That was monumental. But it was in Germany, which was...far away. A Portkey away. He would have it move and then...what did that mean?

She knew she was being selfish for thinking of herself at a time like this, but if he left then what happened to them? They'd been together for a month—three months by the time they graduated; that wasn't nearly long enough to prioritize their relationship over his career potential. That wasn't even long enough for him to ask her to think about coming with him—they'd barely been together. If he moved to Germany, they were done. They were over. She wasn't about to pick up her life and dreams—what was left of them—and take them to Germany for a relationship she'd just started.

There was also the selfish part of her that was now overwhelmingly jealous of...everything. He was being offered starting positions and a real life opportunity to play Quidditch professionally; what was even more insane was that he was considering not taking it because there could be more and better opportunities.

It wasn't that he didn't deserve everything—he absolutely did—but it was hard for her to reconcile that these had also been her desires. Her dreams had always been so similar but they were currently circling down the toilet and leaving her completely lost as to what she should do with her life. But instead of being able to ignore it all and move on, she still had to watch it all play out in front of her.

"Yeah," she finally said, swallowing hard. "Of course I can introduce you to my aunt. Sure. She would be great to...um...great to talk to."

She felt Jack's hand lower onto her back to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. He seemed to sense something in the mood had shifted, but there was no way he could even scratch the surface of everything going on right now. He instead smiled. "I would really appreciate it. But I can't make any decision until I graduate so it's not something to worry about right now." He took a deep breath as if to change the subject. "Are you both ready for the Camp Out tonight? I heard it'll be cold."

"Be sure to pack extra socks," Sarah said, catching Dominique's eye and smirking a little.

"I still haven't packed anything," he said, still rubbing Dominique's back. "I mean, it's one night so it shouldn't take me long, but I probably should do it now and not leave it until the last minute."

"Same, I haven't…" Dominique said, trailing off and pulling herself up off the sofa. "I need to…probably go do it now."

Jack was staring at her. She knew he was confused given her flip in attitude so suddenly, but she couldn't help it. She needed to be alone.

"Ok." He smiled at her. "I'm excited about tonight."

"You're excited to hear how loads of people were tortured and murdered here twenty years ago?"

His expression went blank. Even Sarah looked up at her as if to silently ask, "what the hell?"

"I meant, I was excited to spend time with you at the bonfire," he said, his tone rather deflated. "Not to hear about…" He trailed off into silence.

She didn't know what to say to that. She knew that it ultimately wasn't his fault, but she couldn't help the way she felt; she'd never been good at masking her feelings or moods. She mumbled, "Oh," and said nothing more before walking away without so much as a glance back at the sofa.

Despite everyone commenting about how cold it was supposed to be, the temperature was as typical as Dominique had come to expect for that time of year. It didn't stop everyone in her year from carrying large blankets and extra cloaks down to the grounds at seven o'clock, which was when they were all permitted to gather on the ground. Even from the courtyard of the castle, the large bonfire someone had started was roaring proudly and lighting up the evening sky around the area of the campsite. Beside it, four large tents stood pitched. As they approached, Professor Fletchy was already directing everyone to put their things away in their designated house tent.

Dominique had been rather quiet the rest of the day leading into dinner. While everyone else was talking about sneaking liquor into their duffles with charms, and asking what the plan was for after the speakers left, she sat silently pushing mashed potatoes around on her plate and wishing that this night could have come on any other day than today, Today, she simply wasn't in the mood.

"What's your problem?" Louis asked her, having slowed down his pace to let her catch up. She'd been trailing the group; even Jack, who'd attempted to engage her in conversation a few times, had eventually given up after getting nothing more than short answers. He was now several steps ahead listening to Flynn ramble about whether or not he had enough alcohol for the after evening festivities.

She shrugged. "Nothing."

"Bollocks," he said as a chilly breeze swept over them. "You've got that sulky face thing going on."

"I do not."

"And you're really quiet for some reason," he continued. "And at least twice at dinner Flynn mispronounced the word 'supposedly' as 'supposibly' and you didn't say a word."

She shuddered a little. "I didn't catch that."

"You're not catching anything right now because something is clearly bothering you." He glanced up at the people ahead of them. "You and Jack alright?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason," he said in a distant sort of way. "Did you hear about his meeting with those Quidditch people?"

"Do you really think he didn't tell me?"

"I assumed he would have," he said, throwing her a look to tell her to relax. "But I figured you'd have been a bit more excited about it if he had. Not so bloody grumpy."

She rolled her eyes. Where was Amalie to distract him when she needed her? "I am excited for him, but I'm also tired and…" She shrugged again. "It's nothing, alright. I'll try and shake it off. Especially if it will get everyone to stop asking."

"You may as well keep it up until after the speakers," he suggested. "Your gloominess sort of fits the mood."

They'd arrived at the tents to drop off their bags, entering to find a multi-room interior that was far larger than the outside of the tent would have suggested. There was a common area with several chairs in it, but not much more in the way of furniture. There were four rooms, each with two beds and also not much more to offer, but Dominique assumed that made sense. They were supposed to be roughing it for the evening—and also, why would they furnish a tent that was used once a year for one single night?

Flynn had immediately claimed one of the front bedrooms for himself and Natalie. She showed no reaction to one way or the other, but did go to set her things down. Louis and Sarah went in separate directions to select their sleeping arrangements, while Eleanor said that she was hoping to crash with her Ravenclaw friends, but would bunk with Sarah otherwise. It left one room, which Dominique had assumed was meant for her and Jack; neither immediately claimed it. Jack actually hadn't said anything up until that point, though he did cast her a curious look as if waiting for her to speak first.

"Guess we're in here," she said, pulling back the flap to walk inside and throw her stuff down on the first camp bed.

"Yeah," he said, having followed her in, though not dropping his bag down. "Unless…"

She turned to look at him.

"...you want to be alone. I can go crash with Louis."

She continued to stare at him, trying with all her might to not let that stare turn into a glare. "Why would you do that?"

"You don't seem very keen on people right now."

She rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone…?" She sighed. "How do I not seem keen on people right now?"

He was quiet for a moment before finally saying, "Ok. You don't seem keen on me right now. It's as if you're angry with me and I'm not sure what I did."

She did not want to do this right now. She did not want to have one of these conversations or discussions or heart to hearts. She honestly wanted to walk back up to the castle and avoid the world for the rest of the night. "I'm not angry with you."

"Nic, you've been cold to me all day. You've barely spoken to me since earlier this afternoon—after I got back from—" He stopped and looked at her as if something had suddenly occurred to him, "from the Quidditch thing."

"I'm not trying to be cold. I'm simply in a mood, that's all—"

"This has to do with that, doesn't it?" he asked quietly. "The Quidditch thing? Because as soon as I told you…"

"What are you talking about?" she stammered, feeling a little ridiculous for this conversation even happening.

"Shit, how did I not…?" he was saying now, more to himself as if something was unraveling inside of him. "Nic, I never meant to upset you. I...I just thought you'd be happy for me."

"I am happy for you! What are you on about?"

"You're obviously bothered by it."

"Obviously?" she asked, feeling her voice raise. "If this is you thinking I'm jealous and getting worked up, as if this is the captain thing all over again, you're absolutely wrong."

His face said it all; he didn't believe that. "You can honestly tell me that me talking to people and potentially playing professional Quidditch doesn't upset you at all? Not even a little bit?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered. "I'm upset because we're having this stupid conversation. That's what I'm upset about. I've known you were going to play professional Quidditch since you got a bloody nine at the Trials. We all knew the scouts would come around and talk to you and things would start happening. None of this is new information."

"But you not being a part of it, too, is."

She stared at him. As true as that statement was, it had felt almost cruel to point out. She actually felt tears well up in her eyes at hearing someone else—and him specifically—saying what she already knew. That she had missed her chance and there was no catching up. She was being left behind.

"Thanks for reminding me," she said, masking a sniffle. "Right. I'm not good enough anymore and no one believes—"

"What are you on about?" Jack said, his voice full of frustration. "No one thinks you can bounce back more than I do. Nic, I'm up everyday out there flying with you because I know you can get back to where you once were, and then you're seriously going to tell me no one believes you can do it?" He laughed in a humorless way. "That's bullshit."

"I'm sorry that me being upset about my future going down the drain is bullshit."

"That's not…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Nic, you have every right to be upset. I'm upset for you, but I only wish you wouldn't hold it against me because I'm—"

"I'm not holding it against you!" she snapped. "Fuck. You're going to do what you're going to no matter what regardless, so...whatever. Move to bloody Germany for all I care. Go."

There was a long pause and she was afraid to look at him despite the fact that she knew he was currently watching her like a hawk. "Is this about me, maybe, moving? I'm not—I've barely thought about it. And even if I did—"

"If you did, this has to end," she said, feeling herself managing to stave off the tears as she looked at him. "You know that? You and I—it has to be over."

Now he just looked confused. Confused and hurt and rather gobsmacked. She wasn't trying to hurt or manipulate him, she simply felt he was owed the truth. She wouldn't be able to do this if he moved away. She had barely started working out how to do this when he was here.

"What are you…? Why would we have to...?"

"Because we've only been together for a few weeks," she said. "What do you expect to happen if you move away? You really think we're going to go long-distance? You really expect me to do that? You expect to do that?"

"I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Yeah, well, I have, Jack. I have because you're all I think about now. Everything else in my life has gone to shit and you are the only good part." She felt the tears coming back. "I'm just telling you the truth. I've never been the sunshine and rainbows type that's going to pretend it'll all be the same when it won't. You know it won't."

"But I don't know that," he said with a strange earnestly in his voice. "I mean, I know it's only officially been a few weeks, but Nic, what we have isn't new. It was a long time coming. It's real."

"What does that even mean?"

He stared at her, and for a flash of a moment it almost looked as if he may have been fighting off some hard emotions as well. His voice even cracked a bit when he said, "You know what it means. It means I'm in—"

There was a loud whistle then, cutting him off. Someone was signaling for everyone to join them outside around the bonfire. She didn't know what else to say and she didn't know what he meant, but she instead looked toward the door and said, "We can't do this now."

"Do what?" he asked. "What are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to say we have to go," she said as she exited the room. She knew it was rather callous to leave him standing there after that, but she didn't know what else to do. She was terrible at this and only had two responses when she felt caged in: she could walk away or cruelly tell him off. She chose the former.

In the common area of the tent, she surprisingly found all of her housemates standing there and looking at her. It was clear given their expressions that they'd heard every word she and Jack had spoken in that room.

Eleanor made a beeline for the exit, which Natalie and Flynn quickly followed after without a word. Oddly enough, Louis and Sarah were sitting on the same sofa and looked to have been talking before she walked in. They shared similar looks of concern, though it was Louis who stood before pointing directly at Dominique.

"You. Come with me. We need to talk."

"No, we don't—"

"Nope," he said, practically pushing her along. "Shut up. Come with me."

"Louis, I'm not in the mood."

"I don't really care what fucking mood you're in," he said as they both left the tent. The fire immediately greeted them as other people were emerging from their tents to gather around. They were carrying blankets and things to sit on, but neither she nor Louis had any of that as he led her toward the fire. "What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"Fuck off. This is none of your business.'

"Oh, no. You made it my business when you decided to fall for my best friend. That sound familiar?"

She glared at him. "I swear to Merlin…"

"What?" he said, rounding on her. "What are you going to do?"

"This is none of your business!"

"I'm making it my business," he said without even a trace of remorse. "What are you thinking?"

She glared at him.

"Are you thinking? Or are you just flying off the bloody handle like always when you don't get your way?"

"Fuck you! You have no right—"

"I have every right to call you out for being a shitty person," he said, though he kept his voice low. "What are you trying to do? Make Jack feel miserable because he's accomplished something you want? Nic, everyone knows what happened to us—to you—was shit. No one feels worse than I do because—"

"Because it's your fault!" she yelled, catching the attention of several people walking by.

Louis stared at her. Since day one he'd claimed it was his fault and apologized, but she'd always given him the benefit of the doubt. It was his fault for getting her roped into things, but it wasn't his fault this happened to her or to either of them. But that outburst right there had demonstrated that she clearly did place a lot more blame on him than she'd previously let on. She hadn't realized just how much she did blame him until it had come out.

"It is my fault," he said quietly. "And if it can't be fixed, I have to live with that forever."

"Yeah, well so do I," she said, now feeling deflated as she stood there. She was so angry and so upset that it was almost too much to hold. Her chest was starting to tighten in the uncomfortable way which she'd learned meant her anxiety was starting to surge. She took multiple deep breaths before finally muttering, "My entire life was knocked completely off course."

"And I understand if you hate me for that," Louis said. "We can talk about that. But I'm not going to let you fuck up other parts of your life because of it. It's not Jack's fault."

"I know it's not his fault, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with," she said, taking another deep breath. "Louis, you've literally gotten everything you've ever wanted your entire life. You've always been good at so many things. I had one thing! One thing I cared about!"

"I know."

"And it's gone," she said. "Gone. But it's also not gone because Jack has it all. Everything I've ever wanted, and it's right in front of my eyes. Do you know how hard—?"

"I can imagine." He glanced over toward the fire, where everyone was starting to take their seats. "I just hate to think that this could tear you and Jack apart because neither of you are to blame."

"I don't want it to either, but it's so hard." She looked at the ground. "I'm making him feel like shit for something he should be excited about. This is his life and his future and he shouldn't be worried about how some girl he's barely been dating affects that." She looked back at him. "Maybe I should end things?"

Louis made a face. "Let's not do anything harsh. You're going from A to Z straight away when there are a lot of other letters in between. I mean, fuck, Nic. Love isn't always easy. Don't give up just because you've hit a bump."

For the first time since their encounter back in France when Louis had told her he knew she was in love with Jack, she didn't argue with him. She didn't because for the first time, she realized it was true. She was in love with Jack. She couldn't even deny it any longer. Why else would she care so much about his life choices and how she fit into them? Why else would she even be having this conversation if she didn't?

She took another deep breath. This was quite possibly the worst time in the world to come to terms with this.

The whistle blew once more, as a last call to make sure everyone was gathered and sitting around the fire. She and Louis looked at each other, him silently urging her not to do anything she might regret while she found her deep breaths were taking some of the pressure off of her chest.

She had no idea what she should do. She didn't want to break up with Jack, but she wasn't sure she was strong enough to handle more change in her life. She wasn't sure she could continue making him feel awful for something that was beyond his control—or worse, watching him settle for less because he didn't want to upset her. If the roles were reversed, she wasn't sure she would have ever settled. Why should he?

"Look, love is hard," Louis offered. "I've only been in it once, and clearly it doesn't always work out."

She stared at him. "Once? You've only been in love once?"

He pulled a strange face, as if he was surprised by the question. "Yeah," he said obviously. "Other than Sarah, who else do you think I've been in love with?"

Dominique blew out a heavy breath. That was the question wasn't it?

"I've fancied loads of girls, but love is serious. And it's hard. And sometimes you fuck up." He sighed. "Sometimes you fuck it up to the point where you can't repair it, but you're not there yet, Nic. You can fix this. This isn't like me kissing Amalie—who I clearly had more feelings for than I should have at the time."

Dominique tried everything in her power to not let her face twist into utter aggravation at that. Could they not compare her very real relationship with his spell damaged trainwreck? She wasn't going to even touch that right now. She had her own issues to—

"Hello, you two," came a voice from behind them, which caused Dominique and Louis to turn. Both Javier and Amalie were standing there, though it had been Javier who'd spoken. It seemed as if someone had invited them to the event—as well as the Durmstrang pair, who were now walking up just behind. How long they'd been standing there was anyone's guess.

Louis said nothing, causing Dominique to feel obligated to speak for them. "Hi. What are you...?"

"One of your professors told us we should come," Javier explained, throwing Dominique a smile that she didn't reciprocate. "We thought we might be late."

Dominique shook her head. "You're on time."

"Great," Javier said with a forced but funny kind of smile, gesturing toward the group around the bonfire and stepping forward. "We'll see you over there, then."

"Great," Dominique said, her gaze carrying onto Amalie. She was avoiding her eyes, instead watching the Durmstrang pair who had joined them and were saying their hellos. Dominique made a point to think very hard at the moment about how much she was still hoping to speak to her, but she wasn't sure if Amalie was bothering to try and read her thoughts. She knew that, unlike Javier, Amalie had to actually make an effort to read them.

The second their backs were turned, Louis' expression shifted into something resembling concern. He turned to his sister. "You think she heard the part about me having feelings for her?"

Dominique made a face as if to say she had no idea, but she couldn't see how she wouldn't have.

"Shit..." Louis mumbled, his mind looking as if it was now running a mile a minute. He continued to look lost in thought as he walked beside her to join everyone else at the fire. It was a true testament to their relationship that they were capable of moving on from her life falling apart to his drama so quickly. That was simply how they worked.


	14. The Bonfire

Dominique had naturally heard the story of the Battle of Hogwarts several times throughout her life. Never from start to finish, and never in a scenario that seemed so charged with emotion, but her parents had given her an overview starting from when she was old enough to ask her father what had happened to his face and why he looked the way he did. His injury hadn't happened in that specific battle—it had occurred a year before in one of the many other attacks Hogwarts had come under—but his explanation inevitably led to stories of Voldemort and Death Eaters. As she grew older and began asking more questions—such as, what happened to her Uncle Fred? Why didn't Uncle George have a second ear? What happened to Teddy's parents? Why is Uncle Harry so famous?—the stories inevitably grew more detailed and in depth. She'd certainly heard her fair share of recounts about that night back in 1998, but tonight had been different from all of them.

She'd never heard it from her Uncle Harry's perspective. He never spoke about it and her mother had always told Dominique and her siblings not to ask unless he brought it up. He never did because he apparently didn't like to—which was understandable. Tonight was always the exception since—as Professor Longbottom often said—it was something people needed to be reminded of; the moment people forget is when history has a way of repeating itself.

She'd followed Louis over to the far side of the semi-circle that her peers had made around the bonfire. She could barely make anyone else out in the glow of the firelight, but she knew Jack and her friends had to be among the other faces. They were probably watching her as she sat, seeing as she and Louis were two of the last people to join and slide in on the end where a group of Slytherins were sitting.

Reggie Avery was sitting on a log that had been dragged over and Zara was sitting between his legs on the ground in front of him, casually leaning against him and looking up to talk to him. Dominique couldn't help but wish that she could do that, but instead with Jack. All around, people were bundled up and sitting close—sharing blankets and huddling together. How comfortable and simple. Why wasn't it ever that easy for her?

"Where have you been?" Zara asked Louis once she saw him. "Lira's been looking all over for you. Baileymoore was already volunteering to stand up for you. I think it's safe to say he's ready to declare the Head Boy title is his at this point."

"What…?" Louis asked as he sat down, though it was as if he'd sat on porcupine and immediately sprung back up. He was already making his way around the group mumbling. "Oh, shit. I forgot."

"Forgot what?" Dominique asked.

"McGonagall wants us to greet everyone and introduce ourselves once they get down here," Louis called back, acting oddly out of sorts and discombobulated. It was highly unlike his usually cool and collected self, which meant he really had been thrown off.

"Introduce yourself to your own family?" Dominique asked.

"I don't make the bloody rules," he said, now jogging off to the spot—one clearly designated for a speaker—near the front where Lira was clearly side-eyeing him as he approached. He turned on that winning smile that always got him out of trouble and Lira seemed to at least begrudgingly forgive him for the time being.

Louis randomly started fidgeting and putting on a bit of a show as he stood there, as if he knew all eyes were on him and he had to do something to manage his energy. He began talking to all sorts of people in front of him instead of simply standing there as Lira was, and Dominique had to wonder if he was doing that to show just how cool and popular he was. It was funny because it usually came off as very natural for him, but right now, he looked showy. He looked awkward. He was trying really hard.

"What's gotten into him?" Zara asked, her eyes on the spectacle as well.

"If I answered that truthfully, we'd be here for ages."

Zara turned and looked at her. There was something in her expression that said she could understand that, but Dominique wondered to what to degree? Zara would be one of the few other people here who would have seen Louis at his worst. At the very least, she must have had some thoughts.

"What do you think of Amalie," Dominique asked.

Zara pursed her lips and said nothing, but her wide eyes answered for her as well as words could. It wasn't until she slipped out of her spot between Reggie's legs—telling him she'd be right back—and moved to sit directly beside Dominique that she finally did speak to her.

"What do I think of Amalie, or what do I think of Louis when he's around her?" She glanced over her shoulder, as if checking for something before turning back around. "I talked to Javier this morning. We were catching up and he told me the whole story. I knew it had to be a love potion or a spell. Louis was absolutely ridiculous the entire time we were in France. I could barely handle him "

Dominique's eyes shot to hers. "Did you tell anyone? About the spell?"

"No," she said, sounding skeptical. "But why is it such a secret?"

"Because if Louis finds out he's on that potion to fight off a love spell instead of believing it's helping us fix the damage from the second task, he'll stop taking it. And he needs to keep taking it while Amalie is still here. He can stop once she's gone."

"How do you know he'll stop?" she asked. "Taking it, that is. Have you explained to him now that he's not under the spell about everything?"

"No," Dominique mumbled. "But it's...complicated. He won't believe it because he can't remember anything. He'll stop taking it and go off his head again and…" She sighed. "It's just a mess, alright? The plan is to ride this out until the tournament is over and then let it be forgotten."

"But if he's under a spell, will it ever go back to normal?" she asked. "You may be getting rid of that Amalie, but there are other people named Amalie out there in the world. Is he just going to black out his entire life if he runs into any of them and hears their name?"

Dominique didn't have an answer to that. She honestly hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Have you asked McGonagall or Flitwick about it?" Zara continued. "What have they suggested?"

She avoided her eyes. "They don't know. We've been managing it…"

Zara stared at her. "They don't know? Are you serious? You haven't asked Flitwick, who's one of the most renowned Charms experts alive about a love spell? And how does McGonagall not know?"

"I never had the chance to tell her without Louis being around, and DiSilva apparently didn't mention it-"

"He probably never mentioned it because he's a fucking nutter!" she said. "A complete control freak who wants everything his way!" She shook her head. "It's why he insisted on keeping you in France for so long. It had to be on his terms. I heard he was angry when McGonagall demanded you come home when you did. Wouldn't surprise me if he left all sorts of information out as sort of 'fuck you' to her."

Dominique frowned at that. A 'fuck you' to McGonagall was ultimately a 'fuck you' to she and Louis. It was the ultimate 'fuck you' to her and Louis if the peopple in change weren't properly informed to what had happened to them; thus, they couldn't help them. Was that why nothing was happening?

She could remember McGonagall seemingly confused by the notes she'd been reading on the day they'd arrived back, and DiSilva clearly had left everything about the love spell out entirely. What else had he left out? Her and Louis downplaying their issues and claiming their potion was fixing them probably hadn't helped things. Perhaps she should have been a bit more forthright about everything...

"I plan on saying something, alright?" Dominique finally said to her, not at all feeling like listening to this lecture any longer. All she seemed to be getting tonight were lectures from people.

Zara made a breathy noise, as if to say she'd believe it when she saw it. She then stood. "Whatever you say." She glanced behind her again and let her eyes land on someone in the crowd. "If you ask me, I don't even think that potion he's taking is working that well. He's always hanging around the Beauxbatons' carriage, and he still seems into her."

Dominique didn't want to admit out loud to anyone that she had the same concerns about the potion not working as well as it once had. She'd wondered more than once whether he was getting used to it, but still felt that as long as he wasn't off his head, it was better than him not taking it.

"Weirder still is that she seems keen on him now," Zara said, making a face. "Seems strange since she really couldn't stand to be around him before. I can't see why you'd want to be with someone you know only likes you because they're under a spell." She threw her a funny look. "Your brother may be good-looking, but he's not _that_ good-looking."

Dominique forced a weak smile as Zara chose that moment to move back to her spot beside Reggie. At the same time, Erin, who was sitting on their opposite side under a large blanket with some of her friends suddenly asked, "Hey, Weasley, where's Ians?"

She said nothing and pretended she hadn't heard her. Luckily for her, at the very moment, a group of people appeared on the path; headed in their direction. Dominique counted at least five or six people, it was hard to tell in the dark, but quick whispers of, "They're coming," and "It's starting," could be heard all around. Heads turned and bodies sat up straighter to get a better look. In front of them all, Louis had finally stopped chatting up the entire school and was now watching as everyone else was.

It was oddly quiet as they approached, which was amusing since—now that the group drew closer and could be properly identified—they were all laughing and chatting as old friends in the middle of some amusing anecdote. McGonagall was leading the way with Flitwick beside her. Behind them several steps, Longbottom was telling something to her Uncle Ron, her Uncle Harry, and her Aunt Ginny. Whatever it was made them laugh.

"Shit, that's really Harry Potter," someone whispered.

McGonagall smiled at both Lira and Louis as they approached, nodding at them as if to give them go ahead. They stepped forward, just as Dominique watched her uncles and aunt scan the crowd as if taking them in. It was then she saw her Uncle Harry's demeanor especially change from smiling to more serious as he gave the group a once over. Longbottom could be heard introducing, "Our Head Girl and Boy to welcome you. Though, I'm fairly certain you're familiar with one of them."

They all gave Louis wide smiles as he hugged and shook hands with them. As Lira was shaking hands, Dominique could distinctly hear her aunt ask, "Where's Nicki?" Louis pointed at her in the next moment, and Ginny immediately waved and smiled. Ron did the same once he realized who Ginny was waving at.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," McGonagall's voice suddenly said. "Thank you all for being here and being so attentive. I don't think I've seen this group this quiet since the night the names were pulled from the Goblet of Fire."

"And before that," Longbottom offered, stepping up beside McGonagall, "would probably have been when they were being sorted."

There was polite laughter from the group, which McGonagall let die down before she once again addressed everyone.

"Tonight is a very special occasion and I'm happy to have everyone here to share it. It is a shame we cannot hold it on the proper anniversary, but we are ever so thankful that our guests took time out of their very, very busy schedules to join us."

Someone had started clapping, which made everyone else start clapping. Her Uncle Ron mocked taking a bow, which caused Ginny to roll her eyes at him. McGonagall again let it all die down before once again speaking.

"I also would like to take a moment to give credit where it is due for this evening and it's planning, execution, and all the hard work that goes into cultivating it—especially on short notice when the date needed to be changed—to the person who has always passionately spearheaded this endeavor. Professor Longbottom."

More applause, which Longbottom immediately waved off as if to say that wasn't necessary. At that, McGonagall had stepped back and handed the floor over to him. He immediately reached his hands up as if to tell everyone to quiet down.

"Thank you, Professor," Longbottom said, nodding toward McGonagall. "Obviously, this night is special to me. I feel it's important to tell the stories because it's through the stories that the people we lost never really die. The things we fought for never die. The reason we—" He gestured behind him to the others—"do this is because it's important to make people understand how easily it could happen to you because it did happen to us—and it wasn't long ago. If we can share this story with every wizard and witch that comes through the doors of this school, perhaps we can make sure it never happens again.

"With that," he continued, gesturing behind him, "I'd like to introduce you to some people. Some friends of mine," He laughed a little all the sudden, which made all of her uncles and aunt either laugh or smile as well. It was clear they felt a little silly with the formality of the situation, seeing as they were all good friends. He stepped up to her Uncle Ron first, patting him on the shoulder and asking everyone to hold their applause until the end. "Ron Weasley."

People began clapping despite Longbottom's request. Ron gave a quick wave before leaning over to whisper something to Harry.

"For those who may not know, Ron is one-third of a fairly famous trio, the other third of whom we'll get to in a minute, but I feel it needs to be said we are unfortunately missing that last third tonight." He turned to Ron. "Perhaps you'd like to explain where your wife is, considering I'm sure everyone here is curious why she couldn't join us?"

Ron stepped forward with a quick flash of a smile. "Sure. Hi, um, hello. Hello, everyone. Uh, well, my wife, Hermione, unfortunately couldn't be here this evening due to the sudden change in the schedule. As many of you may have recently heard or read, she's currently on track to become the next Minister of Magic—"

There was more applause at that, which made Ron and Longbottom and the rest of them all laugh and smile.

"Right, exactly," Ron said, sounding proud. "Obviously the most brilliant choice for the job. Couldn't be more qualified. So yes, she sends her regards and apologies. She really would love to be here. Unfortunately, we couldn't swing it. So you're stuck with me."

Laughter as Longbottom gave him one last pat on the back before he stepped back to join the others. "Well, she is sorely missed." He gestured behind him again. "Also joining us is Ginny Potter, for whom I suffered a great deal with here at Hogwarts during that year. She and I will have some stories for you about that, and if I'm honest, I don't know how I would have gotten through that year without her."

Ginny smiled at him. People were once again clapping.

"And funny side note," Longbottom added, looking back at the group. "With all the ball talk going around here lately, would you believe that when Hogwarts held our ball during that Tournament—the Yule ball, I think they called it?—well, Ginny was nice enough to agree to go with a goofy, little fourth-year me."

Ginny had started to say, "You weren't goofy," but at the same time, Ron quipped, "He was. It's true." It caused a wave of laughter to sweep over the group, which Longbottom took it in stride with a smile.

"I was. I'm not arguing it. But—" He smiled at Harry. "I get to joke that I beat Harry Potter to the punch."

"That you did," Harry said with a chuckle, speaking for the first time.

"I didn't get to one-up Harry much back in those days," Longbottom continued, smirking a little. "I'll take what I can get." He gestured back to him. "And, with that—last, but never least—Harry Potter."

There was a surge of applause at that, which Harry took with an awkward smile and a quick raise of his hand that had been meant to be a wave. He'd clearly been in this exact scenario a thousand times before. Dominique almost had to wonder what it was like—to be so famous and so well-known that everywhere you went, everyone assumed they knew you or your story. She only had a famous last name and she would get people stopping and asking her questions and wanting to know more. To actually be the source of that name and to be that person? She didn't envy it.

Longbottom was settling them all down and waiting for the applause to taper. "Well, I'm sorry to inform you all that I'm speaking first—yes, yes, boring old me whose face I know you're sick of seeing day in and out." He grinned for a moment before letting himself become more serious. "We're fortunate to have several different perspectives tonight. From what it was like at Hogwarts building to the battle, to what it was like as faculty—" He gestured to McGonagall and Flitwick, "and of course, what it was like to be at the center of it all. And inevitably come face to face with Voldemort himself." He grew very quiet. "And while we've been having a bit of a laugh and some fun because I'm fortunate enough to have these people behind me as friends, that is because we were the fortunate ones. Many weren't."

He looked away and once again got quiet. the firelight bouncing off his face. "This isn't an easy story for any of us to tell. Some of you lost loved ones that night that you never got to meet, whether it be a grandparent, an aunt or uncle, a family friend. Last year was actually a very special group because it was the first group we spoke to where I finally—finally—no longer had to include parents in that descriptor." He paused for effect. "Because even two years ago, I still had a student who'd lost a father. A father she never met because she was born seven months after the battle." He stared out at the group. "The effects of this battle still affect so many people every day. But I will say I'm thankful I no longer have to say parents."

With that, he took a deep breath. "Let's begin…"

It was an intense two hours. McGonagall had spoken about being powerless against Death Eaters running Hogwarts; Flitwick had talked about charming everything that students passed everyday—such as suits of armor and statues—into battle objects ready to defend their school. Longbottom and Ginny had spoken about the discourse and torture they endured as students that year, and how they helped fueled the rebellion from inside the school. Longbottom's story of how he killed Voldemort's snake in fairly epic fashion had earned a cheer from the crowd, but just hearing what he'd been through definitely shined a new sort of light onto him. It was almost hard to believe this man—who would make funny faces at the mandrakes during old Herbology lessons and had an affinity for doing quick ballroom dance steps around the greenhouses—was the same person.

Of course Ron and Harry had closed the evening out, both sharing their separate accounts. Harry was as straight-forward as one could tell a story. It was clear he was digging deep inside himself to be able to stand up there and recount watching friends die and then accepting the unimaginable task of having to die himself to save everyone else.

Dominique had heard a very quick version of how Harry had walked into that forest prepared to give his life that night, but it didn't compare to the way he told it. She already knew the ending, but she'd been on the edge of her seat listening to every word he spoke. It was chilling and rather horrifying and she had to wonder how he ever got past any of that.

Ron had spoken before Harry, and while Harry's story was harrowing and the obvious way to close out the evening, there was something about the way Ron told his tale that hit Dominique in a way she hadn't planned. He had a good way of telling his story in a lighthearted sense, despite the grave nature of the subject.

He could easily switch from telling them about watching someone be cursed feet away from him, to then immediately mentioning how the battle was also the first place he ever kissed his wife, so it had at least one bright spot. He'd gotten a few laughs throughout, specifically when he mentioned how sharing a tent with Harry Potter for months on end isn't as glamorous as you'd think when no one's bathed after a few days.

But there was one part specifically where Dominique had been taken with how he'd mentioned dark magic had tricked him into becoming obsessed with his insecurities. It had gone so far as to make him abandon both his best friend and the girl he was in love with in a world where death was always waiting around the corner.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Harry growing up," Ron said. "It's impossible not to be when your best friend is the Boy Who Lived. If anyone in the world knows what it's like to live in the shadow of something bigger than you'll ever be capable of being, it's me. I seem to gravitate toward those people, what with Harry being who he is and Hermione being—and becoming—everything she is. I've become a master of helping other people reach their potential while sitting back and watching them go on to more." He laughed a little. "And you're probably thinking that I'm really one to talk since I've got my own Chocolate Frog card and I'm not exactly a nobody, but compared to the company I keep, I haven't done much.

"And now that I'm older I found myself comfortable and happy where I've ended up because I've realized I'll never be them. But back then—back when that locket and that dark magic got a hold of my head and my insecurities—it got so deep that I was willing to give up my two closest friends and everything I'd worked for up over some emotions that I let control me. It's mad to think what mistakes you make when you let jealousy and insecurities take over—and sure, the dark magic played its part—but I'm happy to say I worked it out. I did come back and I thank Merlin every day I did."

Dominique had looked around the group at that, already thinking about Jack and how that was exactly what she was doing—minus the dark magic. She was letting her jealousy and her insecurities get the best of her and hurting him in the process. This wasn't her time to stand in the sun, it was his. And even though she wanted nothing more than to stand in the sun as well, she wasn't sure standing in the sun had even been a real option.

She'd been fucking up since the Trials and she hadn't made great strides to fix things. Jack was up nearly every morning working out and keeping himself in shape, while she was sleeping in. He would never have dreamed of missing a Quidditch practice, while she hadn't been to even one since she'd been back because...why? She was afraid people would laugh at her on her broom? He lived and breathed playing Quidditch while she—she lived and breathed loving Quidditch. But somewhere along the way, she'd gotten off the path and never quite found the way back.

She's grown up in the shadows—of her famous family, of her more successful siblings, and now of Jack. And she had to accept that. Like her Uncle Ron. perhaps her role was to help someone else reach their potential. She would have to find a new sun to shine in, because professional Quidditch wasn't it. She could accept that and keep on with something else that made her happy or she could keep pretending otherwise and lose it all.

When Harry had finished speaking, there was a respectful applause that eventually led to many sitting silently for a few moments; others quietly began talking to their friends in faraway tones as it became clear that it was once again permissible to carry on as normal. People were slow to stand and gather their things and others looked as if they'd certainly shed a tear or two. A gaggle of students had worked up the courage to walk up and thank the speakers for their time, Louis being one of the first to do so. Dominique watched as he hugged their Aunt Ginny first before moving on to the rest of them.

She stood as well, deciding to follow Louis' lead and say hello. She looked around to notice that the majority of students were either still sitting and talking amongst themselves or slowly walking back to their tents. She still hadn't been able to place Jack or any of her friends, which had to have meant they'd been on the opposite end.

"Hey there," said Ginny as Dominique tentatively approached, having not wanted to interrupt. Ginny didn't seem to mind and was already reaching out to hug her. "Good to see a friendly face after all of that." Her smile was watered down but genuine. "It never gets any easier to talk about."

"Didn't sound like it," she said, casting a quick look at her uncles who were still engaged in forced, but pleasant, conversation with her peers.

"How have you been holding up?" Ginny asked, looking her up and down in an appraising sort of way. "Your dad told me about what happened in France. I'm afraid I don't quite understand the extent of it all. You've got some of Louis in you and he's got some of you? Is that right?"

Dominique sighed, swaying a little awkwardly on the spot. "That's the quickest way of explaining it, yes."

"And how have you been managing that?"

"Best I can," she said rather solemnly. "I get to have anxiety attacks now, awful sleep, and I can no longer handle or fly a broom properly."

Any sense of good naturedness slipped off Ginny's face in an instant. That last bit had thrown her. "What do you mean you can't fly properly?"

She shrugged, not really wanting to talk about brooms and Quidditch or anything like that right now. "I've lost my ability. Louis' presumably gained it, but he doesn't care. He has no use for flying."

Ginny still looked terribly concerned. "But, what does that mean for Quidditch? You had plans to…" She looked away, still shocked. "Is this why James has been Seeking the last few matches? He's mentioned it in his letters, but all he said was that you'd been recovering. He made it seem as if you'd be back."

"Very few people know the truth," she said. "I'd been hoping to be fixed and get back to it, but that doesn't seem likely."

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugged, watching as her Uncle Ron managed to break away and make his way over. "I'm not holding out hope."

"Dominique, this is…" She didn't even seem to have the words to end that sentence with, but she looked rather horror struck. "How could this have happened? Someone has to be able to fix this."

"You know, after listening to you all tonight, I realize things could be a lot worse," she said, smiling at Ron as he came over to offer a one-armed hug of a gesture. "Hey, Uncle Ron."

"Hey, Nic," he said, returning her smile. "How's it going? Heard from your dad things have been a little strange for you and Louis lately." He gestured over to where Louis was still talking to Harry, Longbottom, and some other students. "Louis says it's been harder on you than him."

Dominique didn't even have time to pretend she was interested in having this conversation once again before Ginny was asking Ron who they knew—Hermione had to know someone—who could help fix this sort of thing. She seemed as determined as Dominique's mother had been that day in the hospital. It was rather sweet to see, considering everyone else kept treating things as if they were a mild inconvenience.

"McGonagall's already had loads of people come in and see us," Dominique said. "People are trying, but it's not as if this wouldn't be the first case of magic gone permanently wrong." She took a deep breath as if to signal she wanted to move on. "But, anyway, enough about that. How are you?" She looked at Ron. "How's Hermione doing? Becoming the new Minister has got to be exhausting."

"You know she wouldn't have it any other way," he said, sounding as if he were both half kidding and half being serious. At the same time, Longbottom called over to him, seemingly needing to ask him something. Ron held up a finger to excuse himself, but not before adding, "She really did want to come tonight, but she had a dinner. I was supposed to go, but this got me out of it."

"It's true," Ginny agreed once he'd walked away. "And Hermione knows how hard it is for Harry to normally do this even when both she and Ron are here. Ron usually manages to bring some humor, which calms him down, while Hermione always has the details straight when Harry can't remember. If they both couldn't come," She made a face. "I don't think he could do it. This night takes a lot out of him."

Dominique had sensed her uncle tripping up a little when attempting to remember specifics—which was apparently where her aunt would have stepped in—but he'd played it off well enough. He'd merely seemed like a man who'd been through hell and back and it was clear given the way he spoke. It didn't take away from his story; if anything it enhanced it.

'It was a much smaller group this year," Ginny continued. "Mostly because of the sudden date change. Hermione is usually always here. Kingsley Shaklebolt had been known to come once or twice. Various old school friends that Neville can work out. Percy tries when he's free. Your parents and even your grandparents have come at least once. George is the only one who's never come."

"Never?"

"Never," Ginny said. "Says he wants to, and feels that if Harry can do it he should be able to, but it's honestly too much for him. It's hard for all of us, obviously, but everyone deals with things differently. George has a really hard time talking about that night."

Dominique glanced over at Louis, remembering how wrecked she felt at just the thought of him dying—how she'd felt him on the brink of death and how suffocating and empty that had been. She could understand why Uncle George couldn't do it. She knew better than anyone.

"But he does have all of us over to his house after," Ginny continued. "Which, as silly as it sounds, helps. Harry especially. He's not a big drinker, but sending the kids to your grandparents, and all of us going to George's and having some wine and putting this night to bed for another year is rather cathartic."

"I feel as if I need some wine after listening," Dominique offered, watching as Longbottom now was breaking away and walking toward them. "I'd need several bottles if I had to relive it."

Ginny gave her arm an affectionate squeeze as Longbottom approached, a small smile on his face. "Gin, I've just remembered when I saw you over here talking to Dominique. I have a student I was hoping you could meet."

"Me?"

"It's about Quidditch," Longbottom said, throwing Dominique a particularly funny smile. "Professional Quidditch, specifically."

Dominique felt something drop into the pit of her stomach.

"Has Dominique mentioned him to you?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head and looked over at Dominique. "No. Why? Is he a friend of yours?"

Longbottom had seemed surprised to hear that, though Dominique, now feeling wracked with guilt for not having said something and letting Longbottom do all the talking, avoided his gaze. "He's actually, my...my boyfriend."

"He's an incredibly gifted athlete," Longbottom continued. "I've had at least ten scouts out here this year asking to watch him. Got a high ranking at the Trials—" He looked at Dominique. "A nine, correct?"

Dominique managed a quiet, "Yes," just as Ginny said, "Wow. What position does he play?"

"Beater."

"Even better," Ginny said. "It's actually a great time to be a Beater. A bit of a drought right now. I just wrote a piece for the Prophet about that a couple of weeks ago."

"He's destined to play," Longbottom continued, "but he's got a lot of things coming at him at once. Scouts from international teams trying to get him to forego the Trials and not entertain other potential offers."

"Oh, they will do that," Ginny said, with a nod. "But that's not always a great decision. It depends on the organization."

"He's overwhelmed," Longbottom continued, "which is why I was hoping I could introduce you and perhaps you can at least point him in the direction of someone who could sort him out. I know you know loads of people."

"Sure," Ginny said brightly. "I'd be happy to." She smiled at Dominique. "I wasn't aware you had a boyfriend who's apparently a Quidditch star."

"It's new," she said, digging a divot into the soft ground with her trainer. "But, he is really, really great."

Both Longbottom and Ginny were smiling at her sweetly, as if she were a puppy or something cute. Ginny immediately chimed in with, "He must be special," before Dominique realized they'd taken her words to be about Jack and their relationship. She'd been actually referring to his Quidditch skills. They were looking at her like that because they thought she was some moon-eyed girl in love.

"Who's special?" asked Louis, appearing then to and looking from one person to the next.

"We were talking about your friend, Jack," Longbottom said. "And his Quidditch potential. We thought it was a good idea for him to meet your aunt since she would know a lot of important people." He looked back at Dominique. "Would you like to go and bring him over here?"

Dominique had hesitated for a moment, feeling awkward to spring this on him considering the last conversation they'd had been tense and they hadn't had a chance to talk since. It seemed Louis sensed this—whether through a twin thing or because it was screamingly obvious—and offered to do it instead. He didn't even wait for a response before heading away toward the tents.

At the same time, Harry and Ron had managed to shake the last of the well-wishing students and had come to join their small group. Harry smiled at Dominique to offer his typical silent greeting before throwing his wife an exhausted sort of look. "Are we ready to get going?"

"Oh, hold on," she said, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze. "Neville's asked me to talk to someone about Quidditch."

"What about it?" Ron asked. "How the Cannon's actually won a match last night." He suddenly fist pumped.

"No one wants to talk about Cannons," Harry quipped.

Longbottom grinned. "No, it's about playing at the professional level. He needs advice about navigating the process."

"He also happens to be Nicki's boyfriend," Ginny said to Ron and Harry.

"You've got a boyfriend?" Ron said in a tone that made Dominique want to crawl into a hole and die. It was the sort of thing that only an uncle could manage to make sound so ridiculous. "Does your dad know?"

"Not yet because I haven't seen him since it happened," she said, feeling her cheeks warming. "But it's not a big deal."

"It's always a big deal," Ron muttered, glancing up at the castle. "I'm waiting for the day Rosie brings some gangly, goofy boy around. Remind him that her mother is the Minister of Magic and could make him disappear and seem like an accident."

"Stop it, Ron," said Ginny.

"What?" Ron said, looking back at Dominique. "I'd bet when your parents meet this boy—Quidditch star or not—they'll care."

"They've already met him," Dominique said. "They know him very well. They like him. He's Louis' best friend."

All three of the members of her family made faces of immediate recognition, with Ginny saying, "Is this the same boy you were talking about on New Year's?" while Ron said, "Your brother's best friend!?" He nudged Ginny. "That sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Ginny waved Ron off as Longbottom laughed, though it was Harry who managed a small grin and said, "Must be a Weasley thing."

"Well, our genes are strong," Ron said.

"Are they?" Harry asked. "Because she and her sister look more like their mum—"

"But Louis is very much a young Bill. He's got Weasley all over him—"

"And most of mine definitely favor their Potter side over their Weasley—"

"Alright, so apparently our genes are strong as long as it's the youngest child…"

"And even your kids seem evenly split between between you and Hermione—"

"Fine, they're not as strong as I originally thought," Ron muttered, conceding to a very amused looking Harry.

"They'll be at this all night," Ginny said to Dominique, seemingly used to the back and forth between the two of them. It was also then that Louis happened to return alone. There was no sign of Jack anywhere. She attempted to catch his eye to ask what the hell was going on, but he was already focusing on Longbottom.

"I couldn't find him," Louis said. "I checked everywhere, but I...must have missed him."

There was a murmur of confusion, with Longbottom actually saying, "I saw him not long ago," as Louis shrugged as if to say he wasn't sure what to say to that. The second he was within earshot, Dominique threw him a look as if to ask, "What do you mean?"

"He's drunk," Louis whispered in a rather impressive sort of way that allowed only her to hear.

"What?" she whispered back, turning to stare at her brother. He gestured for her to relax and that they'd talk later.

'That's a shame," Ginny said, glancing over at Longbottom before back to Louis and Dominique. "But feel free to let him know he can owl me any questions. Just have him mention either of you so I know it's him."

"Definitely will let him know," Louis said, and Dominique was nodding. He was drunk? Seriously? How had he even managed to get there so quickly?

"Well, we should be going," Ron said, addressing the pair of them. "Holiday break is next week. Are you two coming home?"

Louis shook his head, as Dominique said, "Not with N.E.W.T.s. Need all the time we can get to study."

"That seems...responsible."

"Are the kids coming home?" Louis asked them.

They were all nodding, though it was Harry who surprisingly offered up to them more than his usual few word answers. "They are. It'll be nice to have the boys home. We're having a belated birthday party for Teddy once they get back."

"Is it already Ted's birthday?" Dominique asked, now genuinely wondering where the time had gone. But it obviously must have been his birthday soon since she and Louis celebrated theirs a few weeks prior; he'd always been right after. "Wow, I can believe he's already twenty."

"Twenty-one," Harry said in an obvious sort of way. Given his tone, she felt that she'd missed something; luckily, Louis was quick to point it out for her.

"Literally just spent the entire evening talking about twenty-one years ago," he said, looking at her as if she were a dolt. "Remember, Ted was born just before—?"

"Oh, shit," she said, feeling stupid—and then feeling additionally stupid for swearing in front of her family. "No, I remember." She glanced back at Harry, who shrugged it off as no big deal. "I knew that. His birthday is right after ours and he's always been three years older—""

"You two did just turn eighteen, didn't you?" Ron asked, looking from one to the other. He suddenly reached into his pockets. "I feel as if you're owed a present. And since I am your favorite uncle..." He suddenly pulled out money and began counting it. "Harry. Ginny. Have either of you got change?"

Dominique glanced at Louis, whose expression seemed to say that he wasn't about to turn down free money.

"Why not give them the bigger coins?" Ginny asked. "Since you are their favorite uncle."

Ron looked up at her. "Do you have change or don't you?" He looked over at Harry. "I bet you do."

Ginny was shaking her head, though Harry had reached into his pockets and said, "I don't know how much I brought. Didn't exactly fancy a trip to the gift shop."

He held out what coins he had in his hand and Ron began inspecting, between the two of them Ron seemed to have figured something out, while also getting Harry to contribute on top of him. If Dominique understood correctly, it seemed Harry ended up giving more than Ron did by sheer coincidence, with Ron still taking credit for the lion's share since it had been his idea. Either way, both she and Louis ended up with two galleons each, which was well beyond what either of them would have anticipated getting.

Ginny mentioned that they needed to get going, which Harry readily agreed to and Ron seemed to feel was appropriate. Longbottom was apparently going to walk them all back up to the castle, and there was a second round of thank yous for their gift as well as handshakes and hugs goodbye. When Ginny hugged Dominique, she whispered, "Good to see you. And seriously have your friend owl me." before she pulled away and smiled. They were wished good luck on exams, and that they would see them for the third task, before they finally left in a group; up the path and toward the castle.

"Can't believe I got two galleons out of that," Louis said, holding up his coins. "Happy birthday to us."

She smiled at him before suddenly remembering everything he'd said about Jack. "So, wait. What do you mean Jack is drunk?"

"I mean," Louis said as they turned to walk back toward where everyone else was, "I found him in the Slytherin tent with everyone else—because that's where people have gathered—and he'd clearly been drinking. Flynn, too. When I mentioned Ginny wanted to meet him and that Longbottom had talked him up, he told me flat out that he was too drunk to meet them."

"Why the fuck would he be drunk already?"

"Because he thinks you want to break up with him? Because tonight has been depressing as hell? Because Flynn took advantage of his shitty mood and convinced him? Take your pick."

Dominique rolled her eyes, though did feel partially responsible. This felt all too familiar. When back at the Trials she had gotten upset, gotten drunk, and ended up sleeping with Reynolds. That choice had led her to screwing up her ranking and sending her down the spiral in Quidditch that led her to today. Jack had the opportunity to make a real career connection tonight, and instead he was getting drunk and making bad choices because he was presumably upset and not thinking straight. She'd already fucked up her path; he couldn't fuck up his.

They arrived at the tents, where people were loitering outside, some popping in and out, everyone gathering to kick off the rest of the night. As soon as they were within ten yards and headed toward the Slytherin tent, Dominique noticed several of the Slytherins hanging around outside. Louis had slowed down to scan the group of them for something, but had caught the attention of Nick Coulson for some reason.

"You were talking to Longbottom just then, weren't you? Where'd he go?"

"He's gone back up to the castle," Louis said, turning away to enter the tent.

"Longbottom's gone?" Nick asked, not looking at Dominique.

"He is for now," Dominique said. "He walked everyone back, but he'll probably be back soon."

"Shit," Nick said, turning immediately on the spot to rush over to her friends. It was almost as if a wildfire had suddenly spread—Longbottom was gone for the moment. They were in the clear for at least a half an hour, if not a bit longer. Dominique physically watched as the news spread from one person to the next.

"I'm getting a drink," Louis said. "You should go collect your boyfriend. That is to say, if you don't plan on chucking him."

"Weren't you trying to convince me not to do that? Something about not rushing from A to Z?"

"Since when have you ever listened to me?

"I do more than you think I do," she said. "And I'm not even sure how to talk to him."

"Bloody hell," Louis muttered, turning away from the tent to face her head on. "Just go talk to your boyfriend. This whole avoiding him game is stupid."

"You're one to talk. You avoided Sarah for a week."

"Because we were breaking up," he said matter-of-factly. "And I also told you I was dumb for doing that and should have just gotten things over with. If you've decided to break up with Jack, then stop avoiding him and just do it. It'll be easier in the long run."

She shrunk into herself, which was rather strange. Usually she would have told him to go and fuck himself, but this time, she felt oddly vulnerable. "I'm not...I don't want to break up with him."

"Then why are you avoiding him?"

"I don't know what to say to him."

Louis put his hands on his head as if to imitate ripping his hair out. "You're so bad at this."

"Fuck off," she said, finding it in her that time to tell him where to go. "This is new to me! I've never…" She stopped abruptly, which caused him to raise his eyebrow at her.

"You've never…? What? Been taught how to behave as a normal human being?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Been taught to say your sorry when you've fucked up? Been able to admit that you're wrong—"

"I've never been in love!" she stammered. "I never had to care about someone else like this before so I don't…" She returned to her normal tone of voice, "I don't know how to make it better."

At that Louis grinned at her—a very ' _I told you so_ ' sort of smirk that she immediately hated so very much. "I'd start by maybe telling him that."


	15. Into the Bushes

Dominique and Louis both entered the Slytherin tent one after the other, finding themselves immediately greeted with at least half of the rest of their class piled in and having a bit of a party. Music was playing, people were laughing and chatting, some were sitting around the common area playing a game of some kind. It also seemed someone was clever enough to have filled Butterbeer bottles with actual booze to make it seem as if this was just a casual, dry evening between classmates.

Dominique had to wonder if anyone actually thought the professors would believe that if confronted, but perhaps they didn't care as long as things stayed relatively civil. All she ever heard was how people were always drinking and hanging out all night at this camp out, and she refused to believe the professors were actually not catching on year after year. Regardless, people went through such lengths to keep things secret and under wraps. It almost seemed like an unspoken deal—don't mess up, keep things quiet, and we'll let much of it slide.

Her friends were gathered near the side of the common area—Jack, Sarah, Flynn, Natalie, and a few other randoms from other houses. They all looked to be having a rather animated conversation, with Flynn providing the most action of the bunch. Whatever he was currently telling Sarah, she didn't seem to want to hear it.

She and Louis both walked over without hesitation, and she and Jack locked eyes on each other the moment he'd noticed her. He didn't say anything—it would have been rather impossible to talk over Flynn at the moment—but even at first glance he seemed glassy eyed and a bit spacey. He'd definitely been drinking.

Sarah turned to Dominique. "Where have you been?"

"Talking to my family," she said, gesturing around to everyone. "What's this about?"

"We're out of everything! All the alcohol," said Michael Ellison, who was among the random faces in the crowd. He along with some of his Hufflepuff friends and a few Ravenclaw girls were all looking rather annoyed.

"How?" Louis asked, looking at Flynn. "I gave you five sickles to buy stuff and it's all gone before I even got back?"

Dominique was nodding as if to agree; she had given Flynn some money as well. Flynn had said he knew of a way of getting it snuck into the castle, so most of them had given him money. He'd told everyone that morning that he'd pulled it off and had everything.

"Look, I didn't get enough," Flynn said, his speech a bit slurred and his demeanor so unbothered that everyone was immediately annoyed. "Then I may have had a bit of our supply beforehand. But that's alright, because Jack and I are going to go and get more right now."

Dominique stared as the others rolled their eyes and commented on the stupidity of that idea. They were going to...what, exactly? Get more, where? And how? There wasn't exactly a shop selling alcohol available on the grounds. Were they planning on leaving? To go where? Hogsmeade? The place where no one sold alcohol to students? Or were they going to Apparate elsewhere, which created an entirely different set of issues. Not to mention, how did they expect to leave school? The gates were locked and there was an enchantment placed on them to keep it that way.

Also, had he said Jack?

"What are you on about?" Louis asked, staring at Flynn. "Where are you going to get more?"

"I know a place," Flynn said as if it were no big deal. "Don't worry about it. In fact, Lou, why don't you come with us?"

Louis laughed as if that were a dumb idea, though it was Dominique who immediately said—mostly for Jack's benefit, "Do you know what's going to happen if you get caught? You're going to get detention until the end of time. They'll probably suspend you from all of your extracurricular activities. Ban you from everything. And that's the best case scenario!"

"I don't give a shit about a couple of detentions," Flynn said in an overly confident sort of way. "And I don't have any extracurriculars to get suspended from, so let them try."

"Yeah, well, he does," Dominique said, pointing got at Louis. "A lot, actually. And if you two are mental enough to do it—"

"They're not doing it," Sarah interjected. "No one's doing it because it's stupid."

"Oh, we're doing it," Flynn said. "Jack and I have already decided. It's done."

"You're both drunk and completely fucked."

"We're not that drunk," Jack said, his tone completely unconvincing.

"How do you even plan on getting through the gates?" Louis asked. "You'd need a charm or an incantation—"

"Jack knows it," Flynn said, gesturing to Jack, who was already nodding. "He heard Flitwick say it this morning when he was letting him out to go meet those Quidditch blokes."

"Hearing it and knowing how to perform it are two different things."

"Seemed pretty straight forward," Jack said with a shrug.

"I've actually heard a rumor," Michael chimed in, "that there's a secret passage under the Whomping Willow. It leads off the grounds and you just push a knot in the base of the tree and it will open up."

"That's actually good to know," Flynn said with a dumb smile. "That can be plan B if we can't manage the gate."

"Please tell me you're taking the piss?" Sarah asked. "You'd go and mess with the Whomping Willow just to—" She suddenly rounded on both Dominique and Natalie. "Are you listening to this? Would you both please go collect your men and tell them they are acting absolutely mental?"

Natalie shrugged, though it wasn't known whether that was because there was nothing she could do about it or that she didn't care. Dominique let her gaze travel from Flynn to Jack, addressing him specifically. "Getting suspended isn't good enough? You want to get yourself killed?

"You're so fucking dramatic," Flynn said, his tone clearly annoyed.

"What did you—?" Dominique angrily began to say before Sarah interjected with, "She's trying to keep you from making a stupid mistake! We all are!"

"Oh, no," Dominique clarified, still staring daggers at Flynn, "I'm trying to keep Jack from making a dumb mistake. I don't care what _this_ one does."

"Fuck you," Flynn said to her. "Seriously, Nicki, fuck you."

Dominique's brow furrowed. She forgot how much of a dick drunk Flynn was. While she was angry, she was oddly less reactive than she was used to feeling; the rage and words weren't coming as quickly. It was more of an annoyed sense of pity for Flynn. Was he seriously listening to himself?

It was Jack who suddenly-and rather coldly-said to Flynn, "Don't talk to her like that."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Down, mate. She can take care of herself."

"She can," Jack said. "But don't let me hear you say it."

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Louis said, loudly silencing everyone.

"Fine," Flynn mumbled, looking back at Dominique. "Look. I'm sorry, alright? But I don't have time for this. Longbottom will be back soon. I need to go." He looked at Jack. "We need to go." He rounded back on everyone else. "We'll be gone for fifteen minutes. In and out. Easy. You're all completely overreacting."

"And you're off your head!" Sarah yelled.

"She's not wrong," said Michael, "but I won't stop you if you've made up your mind." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sickle. "Make sure you get extra."

Flynn took it without hesitation and announced that if anyone wanted anything, now was the time to pay up and make requests. He had started collecting from various people who were stepping forward.

Sarah stepped away mumbling, "I'm not giving you more. You still owe me from when I put money in the first time." Louis had immediately agreed with her, which was rather funny. To see them come together over this of all things, but leave it to Flynn's stupidity to do just that.

"Flynn I understand because he's a fucking idiot," Louis was saying to her, "but Jack?"

"He's drunk," Sarah muttered. "You know how he gets after a few and Flynn gets him going. You're the same way." She made a face. "You all do such stupid shit when you're drunk."

"Why is he so wasted already?" Dominique asked.

Sarah threw her a look, which she took to immediately mean that she was somehow the cause of this. "He was upset after the row you had. Flynn didn't want to drink alone and convinced him it would cheer him up. They both chugged straight from the bottle before the bonfire even started. They hit it pretty hard."

Dominique glanced back over at Jack, no longer able to stand around idly any longer. She sidestepped everyone to get to where he was watching Flynn count money from some of the Ravenclaws. When she approached, Jack didn't react one way or another.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

He blinked at her more times than necessary. "Did you not hear...?"

She took a deep breath in an attempt to come off as less confrontational. She didn't need to be confrontational with him, despite him seriously needing some sense smacked into him. "Why?"

"Why not?" he asked. "I mean, Nic, we're walking down to Hogsmeade. We do it all the time. This isn't a big deal."

"It is when it's after hours and the gates are locked. If you get caught you could be suspended from Quidditch."

He laughed a little, mumbling, "I'd have thought you'd have been happy about that."

She stared at him. Was he serious right now? She had to remind herself that he was drunk; she was past the point where she wanted to deal with him. When he was this drunk—when anyone was this drunk—she wanted nothing to do with them. But unlike others where she would have been more than happy to let them make fools out of themselves and fuck up things, this did not apply here. She didn't want any of those things for him; she wanted him to come to his senses. He'd already stupidly missed an opportunity to make connections with her aunt, but that could be fixed. Him going out and being reckless and potentially getting into trouble could affect his entire future.

Flynn had turned then and swatted Jack. "We have to go."

"Jack, you cannot risk your entire future—"

"Oh, please," Flynn said. "He's already got plenty of offers on the table. His career will be fine. None of these teams are going to give a shit that he snuck out of school once. They'll all still be lining up." He paused. "And anyway, we're not going to get caught."

"No one is talking to you, Flynn," Dominique snapped.

"No one's talking to you either," Flynn snapped back, gesturing for Jack to come on. "He's a big fucking boy. He can make his own decisions."

"Both of you stop," Jack said, holding up his hands to silence them. He turned to Dominique. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry about you? You can't be serious?"

"Yeah, I am," he said with a shrug. "It was easy enough for you to do earlier when you walked out and left me standing there. Just...do that again."

Flynn quickly sucked in air and went "Oooh," while Dominique stood there feeling utterly gobsmacked. She'd taken a lot of hits in her life, but that one—that one hurt. A lot. Perhaps it was because it was true; she had done that. Perhaps it was because she now knew how much that had hurt him because that comment had hurt her in the exact same way.

She should tell him off and where to go, but all she could do was swallow hard, fight back a wave of emotion, and turn away without another word. Let him go. Let him get in trouble. Let him get kicked off the Quidditch team. Let him move far away. Let him go away forever. She didn't care. She didn't even want to see his face. Her lip was trembling by the time she'd blown past Sarah and Louis, who had still been talking but stopped when she rushed past.

"Nic, what…?" came Sarah's voice, but she kept walking until she was outside of the tent. She stopped walking once the cold air hit her and let herself take a huge, gaping breath of air. She took another and another. She kept at it until Sarah had come rushing up beside her.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

She shook her head. "Life was so much easier before I cared. Before I cared about him."

Sarah had begun nodding sympathetically. "They really are more trouble than they're worth sometimes."

She stood there still taking slow breaths as Sarah calmly rubbed her back. She stared into the bonfire that was still roaring several yards away, the light bouncing off of the other tents and grass. What hurt the most was that he hadn't even come after her, but then again, why would he? He was right. She's left him standing there after all but promising to chuck him earlier. He was upset. She was upset. He was drunk. She wished she was. That was probably a terrible idea, though. When she got drunk she had no filter and it definitely hurt her ability to not cry.

"For what it's worth," Sarah said. "I understand where you're coming from. Your frustrations with what's happening with Quidditch and Jack. It's a shit situation."

Dominique immediately looked at her. She hadn't expected to hear that; she'd anticipated hearing another lecture about how she was being selfish and dumb, and that Jack was innocent and that it wasn't his fault. That she was a mean, miserable bitch for trying to make him feel bad about being so talented. He'd only been drinking and making terrible decisions because she'd pushed him to it. But she hadn't said any of that. She'd actually gotten sympathy.

"I feel for Jack, too," Sarah continued. "I feel for both of you. And I really hope you two can work it out because I know it's killing him to know he's hurting you. I know it's killing you to know you're hurting him." She sighed. "But playing Quidditch has always been your dream. And now you've been put in this position to not only lose it, but also watch this person you care about achieve all the dreams you had. It's shit."

"Yeah, it is," she said slowly. "But part of me wonders why I'm letting myself get so upset. I can't miss what I've never had."

"You can't miss what you've never had, but you are allowed to mourn your dreams not coming true," Sarah said quickly. "I see nothing wrong with that, You can't help the way you feel. Don't get me wrong you shouldn't be taking it out on other people, but you're only human."

Dominique still felt rather surprised with how non-confrontational this conversation had turned out to be. She was only human, which meant she was prone to mistakes. Everyone was. And even if she was feeling...upset? Angry? Annoyed? Whatever she was with Jack, she didn't want him to make mistakes large enough to affect his entire future because he, too, was a human who couldn't help the way he felt.

Natalie had appeared then, stepping up beside the pair of them and also looking rather sympathetic to Dominique's plight. They all stood in a strange, but comfortable, silence for a long moment; everyone stared into the bonfire, until Sarah finally cut the silence by asking Natalie, "Do you not care that Flynn could potentially get in a world of trouble?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"You know, if he's caught, he could potentially be banned from attending the ball as part of his punishment."

"Then I suppose we're breaking up sooner rather than later," she said, her tone so monotone and unbothered that it was actually funny. It actually made Sarah laugh and, oddly enough, made Dominique crack a genuine smile as she continued to stare into the fire. Even Natalie began laughing once Sarah's laughter became rather contagious. Dominique wasn't even sure what was so funny, but there they all were laughing.

It only stopped once Sarah's laughter tapered into a strange sort of groan of a noise. When both Natalie and Dominique turned to look at her, her sights were set back on the tents behind them. It was there that Javier and Amalie had reappeared and were now talking to Zara and Reggie.

"What are they doing here?" Sarah asked, though it was more than evident that she'd been referring specifically to Amalie. It was also at that exact moment that Louis exited the tent and made a beeline straight for the group of them.

They watched them for a moment more before Sarah turned away and looked back at the fire. "I'm so over it. Spell or no spell, it doesn't make it easier to watch him over there acting the way he's acting."

"I feel like boys can always do that," Natalie said. "The girl will be still mourning the relationship months later and meanwhile, they're off with a new girl within the week."

"She's definitely got some sort of effect on him," Dominique offered. "Whatever sort of magic got a hold of him is clearly powerful."

They were all silent for a moment, the fire loudly crackling in front of them. It was Natalie who broke it all by suddenly asking, "Wait, what sort of magic got a hold of him? I'm confused."

"It's a long story," Sarah murmured. "I'll tell you later." She glanced back at Louis again, though spoke to Dominique. "Does she fancy him?"

She sighed. "Apparently? I can't even say. I know she didn't, but now she might? You know Louis. He has a way about him that draws people in."

Both Natalie and Sarah made nearly identical noises as if to say they did know exactly that, both of their gazes locked onto the fire. Dominique had quick memory flashes of years ago, both of them with smitten smiles on their faces with Louis presumably being the intended target, but she quickly shook it off. Happier times. After a moment, Sarah quietly said, "She can have him."

"We're almost done," Natalie said as the fire crackled loudly and small bursts of light and heat popped and jumped from the top. "A couple of more months then we're free of this place and the people in it. The annoying boys and the people we've known since we were eleven. None of them have gotten much better since then."

"That's not true," Dominique said.

Sarah turned to Natalie. "You have to remember. Nic's got one of the few who—at least on a normal, sober day—has gotten better since he was eleven."

"I wasn't talking about him," Dominique said, glancing over in Natalie's direction. "I was actually talking about you." She turned back toward the fire. "If I'm being honest, you don't annoy me like you once did. You actually don't annoy me much at all anymore. I actually think I like you."

Sarah's jaw dropped. She'd turned to make sure Dominique could see the evident shock on her face.

Beside Sarah, Natalie was staring at Dominique. She seemed to be considering how to take that, but ultimately did decide to let a small smile appear once she turned back toward the fire.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then a half an hour. Forty-five minutes. As they sat talking around the bonfire—now also having been joined by Eleanor and her Ravenclaw friends, as well as a few Hufflepuff girls—Dominique could vaguely hear them chatting about how if Ellibit married Mike, her name would be Ellibit Ellison, which she'd apparently thought quite a bit about and already planned on hyphenating. It was causing a conversation about last names to spring up among everyone, but Dominique was too distracted with the fact that that Flynn's estimate of fifteen minutes round trip had been a complete load of bollocks.

Longbottom had returned once more, with Professor Fletchly, to give the surprisingly well behaved group a once over. They didn't even dawdle for long, claiming they had business at the castle to attend to and that they'd been back shortly. It seemed their supervision really was as legend had described; as long as people were behaving, they asked little questions.

The whereabouts of Jack were still in the forefront of her mind as she continuously kept checking the direction of the path that they would inevitably be coming back from. She'd nearly had a heart attack once Longbottom and Fletchly had reappeared, but luckily they hadn't chosen then to return with loads of booze. Now she was back to worrying where they actually were and how desperately they needed to return now before Longbottom decided to hang around a bit longer.

"Where are we supposed to wee?" Sarah asked at random, standing to look around.

"In the woods?" Natalie offered. "I saw some people going over there earlier."

"Terrific," Sarah muttered, stepping away in apparent search of a makeshift toilet.

It was Ellibit who turned and began immediately asking questions once Sarah had left. All about Louis and Amalie, apparently having been gossiping with her friends about the two of them for the last several minutes. Dominique seemed to have missed the entire exchange due to having been lost in thought—and because she did not care to discuss it with any of these people.

"They just seem very friendly, is all."

She shrugged. She could talk to Sarah about this, but with random people, Louis had her loyalty. She wasn't about to put his business on blast for a bunch of girls to go and run their mouths about. "He's friendly with everyone."

"Yes, but this is veeeery friendly," Ellibit reiterated with a very knowing sort of look. Her friends were nodding beside her.

"I don't know what to tell you," Dominique offered, feeling a bit sleepy now. She didn't even care about the alcohol or the party anymore. She would have actually liked to have given up on the camping and walked back up to the castle to her warm room and her even warmer bed. Her ideal scenario would have included Jack there as well—the two of them back on good terms and happy—but she had to remind herself that he was annoying and drunk right now. She'd have to settle for a night in a camp bed on her own.

Sarah came jogging back over and seemed far more excited than someone who'd just taken a wee in the woods should be. As soon as she was within earshot, she'd exclaimed, "They're back! I saw Flynn."

"About bloody time," someone said as several of the girls sitting around the fire stood to go find him. There were a few stragglers—Dominique and Natalie among them—and when they made eye contact, Natalie seemed rather uninterested. She feigned celebrating.

"Did they get everything?" Dominique asked as she finally stood, noticing that Sarah was waiting for them to come along.

"Flynn only had one bag. I'm hoping Jack has the rest because it didn't look like enough."

"Did you not see what Jack had?"

"He wasn't with him."

Dominique stared at her. He wasn't...what now? "Where is he?"

Sarah had shrugged and claimed to have just barely caught Flynn arriving back; she hadn't stopped to ask about Jack. Dominique sighed before she marched back up to camp, back into the Slytherin tent to find a gaggle of people crowded around Flynn. He was attempting to figure out who was owed what in his drunk state.

It was going to take some pushing and shoving to get to him, though Dominique found herself distracted by Louis sitting off to the side, of course chatting with Amalie.

She walked over and thwacked her brother hard on his shoulder, thus popping the little conversation bubble he'd built around the two of them. He'd turned around rather aggressively, as if he was ready to have it out with whomever had just done that. His anger turned to annoyance once he got a look at her.

"What?"

"Is Jack back?"

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't seen him."

"Flynn's back."

"Cool?"

"So, Jack should be back."

Louis made a face, as if to say he probably should be, but this was not his problem. He instead slowly said, "I. Haven't. Seen. Him."

She let her eyes narrow on him; he did the same to her. Nothing was said, but she glanced over at Amalie—who reacted by automatically smiling, though Dominique didn't return it.

"Did you need anything else?" Louis asked, his tone still sharp and clearly still annoyed that she'd interrupted them. "Or are you capable of tracking down your boyfriend on your own?"

She made a face. She had the urge to suddenly regale Amalie with stories of how Louis wet the bed until he was eight, but she held her tongue. She was hopefully reading it off her anyway, "If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

"Will do," Louis muttered, turning away from her as if to signal he was officially done with his conversation.

She began to force her way through the people who were now dispersing from around Flynn—either having gotten what they came for or asking where the rest was. All Flynn could say was that it was coming.

"Where's Jack?" she asked, having finally gotten within arm's length of him.

"Shutting the gate," he muttered, handing something to Caleb Gilmore without even bothering to look at her. "He should be back any minute."

"You left him out there?"

He shrugged. "One of us had to get back here. People were waiting."

One of them had to…? She rolled her eyes and turned away, heading straight out of the tent and back out into the night. People seemed to be in better moods now that alcohol had arrived, and they were all secretly pouring them into Butterbeer bottles to disguise the fact. Longbottom having still not returned was troubling, since she knew he was due back down again any minute. With Jack out there attempting to shut the gates and being at the worst possible place on the grounds right now, something wasn't sitting right with her.

She grabbed her wand and said, "Lumos," now ducking behind the tents and along the edge of the forest until she reached the clearing and path that led directly to the main gates. She attempted to stay against the forest's edge—where a shoulder length hedge separated the forest from the path—as best she could, but the forest gave her the creeps in broad daylight with the sun out. At night, she found herself entirely freaked out.

The gates were with sight now—still open partially—though she hadn't needed to walk far since Jack was already walking back. He may not have been as drunk as before, but even from the way he didn't notice her standing there—with light pouring out of the tip of her wand—until he was within feet of her, it showed he was still far from sober. He jumped back once he noticed her standing there, dropping the bag of bottles he'd been carrying.

"Shit, you scared me. I thought you were someone important."

She lowered her wand to the ground. "No. I suppose I'm not."

He made a frustrated noise. "You know that's not what I meant." He continued walking toward her, having forgotten the bag he'd dropped. "And don't do that."

"Sorry?" she asked, shining her light at his chest. "Don't do what?"

He stopped walking again, though he now stood directly in front of her. "You can't act as if you're ready to be rid of me one minute and then get all passive aggressive with me the next because you think you're not important. You can't have it both ways."

"I'm not trying to have it both ways—"

He laughed a little at that, which suddenly made her blood start to boil.

"—and," she continued, pushing on, "I don't want to be rid of you! I was angry and I—"

"You said if I dared move away, we were done. How is that not—?"

"Jack, we've been together for five minutes!"

"Stop saying that! Just because it took us ages to finally figure it out, doesn't mean it just bloody well happened!"

"What else am I supposed to say, then? Am I supposed to ask to come along? Because that sounds just as fucking mental as you seem to think breaking up would be."

He was quiet for a long moment. He was looking off into the bush beside them as if there was something particularly interesting inside of it—which there wasn't. "None of this is even happening yet. Nothing has happened. Nothing may even happen. Why are we even having this conversation unless we have to have this conversation?"

"Because your future is everything I've ever wanted and you know that. I can't ignore it."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his tone still much louder than she was used to coming from him. "Quit? Stop talking to Quidditch teams—"

"Obviously not. I think you should talk to more of them, like my aunt who wanted to talk to you—"

"Holy shit," Jack said, doubling over for a moment before standing back up to look directly at her. "I can't keep track. You hate that I'm talking to people and potentially making a career out of Quidditch—"

"I don't hate it!"

"—but you're also angry I didn't talk to you aunt in order to help my career."

"Jack, when will you understand this isn't about you? It's about me and my issues and how fucking fresh the wound is. Yes, I took it out on you earlier and I'm sorry for that, but I'm trying to work through this. I'm trying! I realized almost right after I walked out earlier that it wasn't fair to you. I've wanted to apologize, but you've been off your head—"

"I'm not that drunk."

"Bollocks," she spat back. "You let Flynn convince you to leave the bloody school and risk suspension so you could get some booze? You better be that drunk or else you're an idiot."

He stared at her, again falling into a prolonged silence. When he did speak again, his voice had finally returned to a normal volume. "You're always trying."

"What?"

"When I first wanted us to be together, you said you weren't ready. You needed to work on something. You were trying. Now you're trying again to work through something else. You're always trying."

"Do you want me to quit?"

He shook his head. "I'm only wondering if being with me is so hard that you're always trying, that maybe—?"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"It seems exhausting, is all. You were probably a lot happier when you didn't have to try all the time."

She looked away. How had he not put together that the only reason she was trying so bloody hard was because in the end it was him she got. She wasn't trying so hard to be with him because he was hard, she was trying so hard to keep him because it was hard—giving yourself entirely to someone else and investing yourself so thoroughly was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. Up until that point in her life, she'd been selfish and been allowed to be. Obviously she had to try to avoid making the mistakes and the fuck ups she was prone to.

"I wasn't," she finally said. "That is to say, I was happier in different ways, but now I'm happier in other ways. But that's not all you. That's life. That's growing up." She looked at him. "You make me happy. Happier than anything else that's happened to me this year."

"You make it really hard to tell."

"Yeah, well, I feel as if you knew what you were getting yourself into there," she said matter-of-factly. "I've never been the type to wear my feelings on my sleeve. Not the important ones, anyway. You'll have to take me at my word."

Jack puffed up his cheeks and released all the air sharply. "Alright. If I'm taking you at your word, then—" He hesitated, "Do you still want to keep doing this? Do you want to be with me?"

She nodded. "Yes, I want to keep doing this." Her breath caught for a moment before she added, "I love you."

He hadn't been expecting that, that much she could tell. Somehow he managed to convey a blankness in his expression while also looking rather shocked. She'd been amazed at how easily the words had come right out, but that was beginning to be a habit with him. Good or bad, the words just seemed to come out around him.

He stood up straighter, his eyes up on the dark night sky and his entire demeanor tired and drunk. "This isn't how I wanted us to—to say that for the first—"

There was a noise from behind her, somewhere up the path was the sound of movement. Jack was slow to pick up on it, but she turned immediately. A light—someone's wand—was bouncing down the trail. It was a male based on their frame and their steps weren't leisurely or casual—they were urgent and determined. They had a reason to be walking directly toward them.

"Whoever you are," came a stern sounding voice. "I've caught you! You need to stop immediately!"

"Oh, shit," Jack said, now realizing it was some sort of authority figure about to catch them both standing there, near an open gate, with a bag of booze feet away. "Shit, shit, shit."

It was everything Dominique had been afraid of; a wave of potential consequences came washing over her. Detentions. Suspensions. Who knew what else? It wouldn't be good. There would be serious punishments.

She turned back toward Jack. It would be worse for him. She'd said that from the get go, but it was too late to say 'I told you so' and she instead began to formulate a plan he probably wouldn't like—she sure as hell wouldn't—but it had to be done. A forced kiss next to a suit of armor wasn't getting them out of it this time.

She instead extinguished her wand light with a flick of her wrist and instead pointed it directly at Jack. It was too dark for him to see what she was doing, and he wouldn't have had time to react regardless because she immediately murmured, "Petrificus Totalus," and watched as his body went as rigid as a board, seizing up entirely. She had just managed to step forward and catch him from falling the wrong direction, pushing him instead—rather bluntly, only because he was far heavier than she'd anticipated—into the hedge. It seemed to break his fall a bit, but there was certainly a loud thud that made her cringe. She hoped that didn't hurt too badly.

She leaned over the hedge, not wanting to turn her wand light back on and draw attention to the pair of them. While she couldn't make out where he was exactly, he seemed obscured well enough from sight. She then went and picked up the bag of booze before glancing once more at the hedge. "Sorry. But I'm trying to protect you. Always trying."

With that she started walking up the path, bag in hand and her wand light flicked back on in order to be more easily spotted. She was ready to meet whomever was coming to greet her.

* * *

"What were you thinking!?" Longbottom said to her. He was currently standing over her as she sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He'd led her in here straight away after she'd been found by Professor Holt—who had heard arguing down the path while helping Longbottom do his rounds. He walked her back up to the campsite like a criminal of sorts.

Longbottom had been back at the camp by that point, but obviously hadn't suspected anyone out of bounds or wandering the grounds. The moment Holt had marched her up, having confiscated the alcohol and now shoving it into Longbottom's hands, his face had fallen completely. He clearly had not wanted to have to deal with this.

Everyone had watched from around the camp. The people around the fire and the ones who had come out of their tents to see what was happening. Holt and Longbottom were discussing what was to be done, while Dominique glanced around as saw many quiet, rather tense faces watching the display. Butterbeer bottles were nowhere in sight.

Sarah had been among the faces that caught her eye. There was a silent exchange of panicked curiosity from Sarah, but Dominique found herself remaining relatively cool despite everything. She knew she was going to be led up to the castle to be reprimanded; she wanted her professors to get a move on so she didn't have to stand here looking like a sideshow any longer.

Louis had appeared after a few minutes as well, walking out of the tent as if someone had just told him what was happening. Unlike everyone else, he walked right over and was staring straight at her. She could tell by his expression he was desperate to know what had happened, but it wasn't as if he had the authority to ask. Sister or not, this was a private matter.

"You may speak to your sister later, Mr. Weasley," Longbottom said curtly, as if sensing what was on Louis' mind.

"Is everything alright?"

"As far as you're concerned, yes," Longbottom said, his tone again dismissive. He'd turned to Dominique then and rather brusquely told her she needed to go and collect her things from the tent. She wouldn't be returning that evening.

Louis' eyes had gone wide as she met them, though she did nothing more than shrug. She'd anticipated all of this, though she did need to get word to someone to go and help Jack. He'd be stuck there all night until someone released him from the curse she'd set on him.

"And be quick about it," Longbottom said to her as she walked toward the designated Gryffindor tent. To Sarah's credit, she had the foresight to get ahead of her and rush inside the tent before Longbottom could get on her case about minding her own business. The moment Dominique entered, she was met immediately.

"What—?"

"Jack's been petrified and pushed in a hedge near the gates. You need to go and find him and help him. Can you do that?"

"What?" Sarah asked as Dominique brushed past her into her room to gather her bag. "Who petrified him?"

"I did."

"What!?" she yelled, her expression horrified. "Why!?"

"Long story that I don't have time to tell," she said. "But promise me you'll go and help him."

"I will, but…"

"Thanks," Dominique said, stepping past her and back out of the tent where Longbottom and Holt were impatiently waiting for her.

The walk up the castle had been silent, with Longbottom marching at least ten paces ahead of her the entire way. She'd assumed he'd be annoyed, but he almost seemed angry. They'd barely been through the front doors of the castle before he immediately told her to go and sit in the Great Hall. It seemed that he didn't even want to walk all the way to his office.

The Great Hall was hauntingly empty at this time of night, which she couldn't help but notice as she entered. She'd taken the very first seat at the very first table and watched as Longbottom followed, only to pace back and forth a few times. He really was agitated—more so than he usually was when being forced to discipline her. He finally stopped to ask her exactly what it was she was thinking.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Wanted a drink. Other people did as well. So, I went and got some."

"How did you even get the gate open?"

"Spell."

"What spell?"

"The one that...opens it?"

He stared at her. That answer hadn't done anything to curb his apparent annoyance. "Why would you leave? I know for a fact that there were plenty of people drinking out of Butterbeer bottles and trying to hide it. Why not—?"

"I provided those, too," she said. "Professor Holt had caught me on my second trip back."

"You left twice!?"

She shook her head. "Once, but I couldn't carry everything. I meant my second trip back from the entrance."

"How did you get everything back in the first place if you couldn't even carry it all back from the gates?"

That was a good question. Perhaps he could already see how feeble her story was and was planning on calling her out on it. She'd never been one for winging excuses.

"Apparated back and forth?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you, sir," she said, throwing in the 'sir' for good measure.

Longbottom looked as if he could smell through her bullshit a mile away, but he also looked as if he couldn't figure out a more plausible explanation as to what the real story was and instead had no choice but to accept this. He started rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "You did this alone?"

She nodded.

"You wanted to provide alcohol so badly to your peers—on a night where we're supposed to be remembering and reflecting on the people who fought in this very room—" He gestured around the Great Hall, "to protect your school and your society. You needed it that badly?"

Well, that made her sound like an arsehole.

"And while I never expect the younger generation to understand the gravity of what happened here because you didn't live it, I always assume some students have to feel it more than others. You were one of those students I assumed, Dominique. Half of the people who spoke tonight are your family." He stared at her as if he shouldn't have to be telling her this.

It was clear given his tone that he now thought of her as a disrespectful brat who dared to shit on a remembrance occasion that should have meant something to her, but she'd instead turned it into nothing more than an excuse to party. And the worst part was that it had meant a lot to her, but there was no way of convincing him of that and still maintaining that she had been the one who'd left to go and fetch alcohol in the first place.

"There are a good ten students I would have pegged to do something like this before you," he continued. "Your behavior has been far from perfect over the years, but your incidents in the past have always been reactive. You curse or fight people who you feel have wronged you—that's how you find your way into my office. You've never been a rule breaker for the sake of breaking rules. But this is the second time this year we've been in this position because you've decided you're above one of our rules. You're now breaking them because you want to."

She looked down at the wood tabletop, but said nothing. This really wasn't looking good for her. Maybe she really should stop helping people because it really wasn't working.

"Miss Weasley," he began in a very specific sort of way that she'd come to expect of him before he went ahead and doled out punishments and consequences. "I have no choice, but—"

She suddenly looked up at him. Another idea—a last ditch effort. She had to try or she'd be locked away for the rest of the school year in detention. "Sir, I did it because I really needed a drink."

"Yes, we've established that."

"No," she continued. "What I meant to say is that my life is falling apart. Or, it did fall apart. Ever since the second task where you all asked if I would help Louis—"

A slight flicker in his eyes showed her that she'd at least made him stop and listen. She'd chosen her words carefully. She wanted to remind him that she'd done Hogwarts a favor and that it hadn't been her idea.

"I barely sleep at night. My Quidditch career is over. I have anxiety worse than I ever had before and—" she realized as she spoke that none of this was untrue. She had started off hoping to create some sort of excuse to convince him, but she now realized that her life actually had fallen apart and Hogwarts had played a part, "and..."

"The drinking helps?" he asked as he sat down across from her.

She didn't answer him. She didn't want to speak since it wasn't entirely true and she was tired of lying outright; lying through omission was another story. If that's what he wanted to take her silence to mean then so be it. If it helped her get a few less detentions, she would take what she could get. She looked at Longbottom's face and noticed he was thinking now. She'd evidently hit some sort of chord because he didn't look nearly as angry any longer.

"Miss Weasley, you're a victim of spell damage," he said very directly, as if she wasn't already aware of that. But for some reason, the way he said it made her squirm uncomfortably. He made it seem as if it was a big deal; a serious issue.

"It sounds bad when you say it like that."

"You've just claimed your life is falling apart because of it," he said. "Wouldn't you say that's a bad thing?"

She said nothing.

"Is it affecting other parts of your life? With your family? Your friends? Your school work?"

"I mean, a little. My school work has actually gotten better since I picked up something off of Louis that makes it all easier. But the anxiety makes me feel weird around people sometimes. The Quidditch thing…" She sighed. "I can't play anymore. Not in any proper capacity. And that's made things strange between Jack and I since I can't even play and he's going to be a professional and—"

"You feel left behind?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Longbottom was nodding now, as if a lot of this was starting to make sense. "Spell damage affects very specific parts of your brain, but as you can see, it leaks into other parts of your life as well. It can change a lot about you. But one thing is for sure, you shouldn't have to drink to deal with it. That's going to lead you down a very dark path."

She nodded. "You're probably right."

"And if what you say is true, then I feel it's necessary to get you in for an evaluation with a Healer at St. Mungo's as soon as possible. I'm incredibly familiar with many of them in the spell damage ward seeing as I visit often. I could have them—"

"Professor McGonagall's already had Louis and I meet with—"

"No, this is different," he interrupted. "Professor McGonagall is trying to reverse the damage. I want you to learn to cope with the fact that that may never happen. And I want you to do that in a healthy way. There are people you can talk to and prescribed potions that can be administered after an evaluation is done. You may feel your life is falling apart now, but I assure you it's not. It's the choices you make and how you choose to take control of things."

She continued to squirm a little, now wringing her hands under the table. This was the first time anyone had addressed her spell damage as a problem she needed to learn to live with instead of a problem she should hold out hope to get better. Everyone wanted her to keep believing, but that was almost worse than the damage itself. Life kept moving on, but she was expected to wait and see what happened.

It was strange and a bit of a wake up call, even if Longbottom assumed she was handling it worse than she was. It wouldn't hurt to get checked out, especially if it kept her from fighting with people over things no one could control. Or simply fighting with herself.

"I'm going to send some owls out on Monday morning," Longbottom said. "Get you some names of some Healers. I can't make you do this, but I really hope you'll consider it."

She nodded, though didn't look at him.

He sighed heavily. "With that said, you did still sneak off the grounds and that's an egregious lapse in judgement."

"I know."

"I would usually send you detention—including weekends—for at least a month or so. That would be the rest of the term given where we are in the year." He sighed. "But I feel that your time really should be better spent studying for your upcoming exams instead of cleaning classrooms and copying lines." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I also would usually ban you from attending the upcoming ball, but given it's your brother's night and your family will be in attendance and expecting you, I don't feel as if that's a viable option either."

She turned to look at him, wondering where he was going with this.

"That leaves me with my last course of action," he said, looking her directly in her eyes. "I'm suspending you from the Quidditch team for the rest of the year, effective immediately. This includes practices. And I hate to say this since you are a seventh-year, but this would officially end your time here playing Quidditch for Gryffindor. I'm sorry."

She blinked, finding herself feeling a strange rush of emotions. Hearing the words 'suspending' and 'officially end' made her chest clench in a highly uncomfortable way. This meant Quidditch was over. Completely over. No more her avoiding it or making excuses why she couldn't—she couldn't even play if she wanted to. He'd just seen to it. But at the same time, he knew she couldn't play Quidditch any longer. She'd just reminded him, so...?

"And two weeks of weekend detentions. I'm in charge of the next two weekends, so bring your books. You'll be studying for your exams."

"That's...it?"

"Would you like more days?"

She quickly shook her head. She still wasn't quite sure why he was going easy on her, but she said, "No, sir."

How strange it was that two years ago, she was in an almost identical position of having him suspend her from Quidditch for the rest of term and she'd hated him. She'd hated him so much and sworn him off that day as an arsehole; to the point she'd dropped his classes entirely. But now, he was doing the exact same thing and a part of her was thankful. Thankful for him not destroying what little time she had left here at Hogwarts and thankful he'd saved her from hiding why she couldn't play any longer. Now, when people asked, she was suspended. That was it.

"You're excused to return to Gryffindor Tower," he said, standing up himself. She did the same, and had politely nodded as if to excuse herself before she heard him call after, "Miss Weasley, I find it hard to believe you acted alone tonight."

She shrugged. "I did."

His expression was peculiar. "Did you?"

"Even if I didn't," she said. "I prefer to catch Snitches. Not be one."

He nodded and she could have sworn she saw the faintest trace of a smile. "And it's a shame you won't be doing that for Gryffindor any longer. You really were an asset to that team. If I'm being honest, I often wonder if we could have had back to back Quidditch Cups had I not had to suspend you for that match two years ago."

"We would have," she said without missing a beat. "I know we would have."

"That's a shame, then."

"It's my fault," she said. "I shouldn't have cursed that girl."

This time she did see a small smile appear, though he did nothing more than nod and move forward to pass her. As he did, she noticed just how drained he looked. She'd always heard that this night always took a lot out of him, but it wasn't until she really looked at him that she saw the lines in his face, the bags under his eyes, and wear on his features. He hid it so well usually, but tonight, he let the exhaustion hit him.

"Professor."

He stopped and turned to her.

"I wanted you to know that—despite my actions—I did find this night very meaningful. So, I suppose what I'm trying to say is, thank you for making it happen."

Another smile—this one tired, but also sincere. "You've come a long way, Miss Weasley."


	16. Declarations and Invitations

Dominique had awoken just after sunrise the following morning, as per her new normal. She'd slept restlessly and tossed and turned throughout the night, but she felt well enough the following morning. No bags under eyes, no drowsy nature, no lack of sleep headaches. She looked around her vacant bedroom, where she was currently the only occupant. They were all still down at the campsite and probably wouldn't be awake for at least another hour or more.

She rose from her bed and set to getting dressed in a sweatshirt, some joggers, and her trainers. She took the bottomless bag her parents had gotten for her birthday, dumped out the things she'd placed into it onto her bed, and proceeded to sling the empty bag over her shoulder as she made her way down into the empty common room and out the portrait hole.

She exited the school and made her way through the courtyard and down onto the grounds. When she looked right, she could make out the tents and the smoke from the bonfire that was clearly still going. She wasn't even sure she was allowed to go down there after what had happened—not that she'd planned to—but she did feel the draw of being pulled in that direction considering everyone she cared about was currently there. She pressed on, however, and instead continued toward the Quidditch arena.

After going to the changing room to drop off her bag and collect her broom, she walked out onto the empty pitch and looked around. So much had happened here. So many wins and losses. So many fights and celebrations. Her highest highs and her lowest lows. She'd built the foundation for every relationship she'd ever had out there; while one flopped entirely, the other was proving to be one of the better things to have happened to her while here at school. When she would think back on Hogwarts, the majority of her memories would come from this very spot.

She clutched her broom and positioned herself to mount it. Take off was awkward as usual, but once she was in the air, she found a rather calm feeling wash over her. She flew around for a while, enjoying the wind in her face and the feel of her broom beneath her. For once, she wasn't concerned with how poorly she flew or how much she needed to work on things, she was simply enjoying the view of the arena. The stands that had both cheered and booed her. The pitch that she spent so much time scanning. The horizon line in the distance that she could just make out if she flew up high enough.

She felt her chest tighten in it's now daily, normal sort of way. She began deep breathing immediately and flew down to the ground. As she sat on a nearby bench, she could help but wonder if maybe Longbottom was right. She really should talk to someone.

Other people were arriving now, she could see that. It was an Open Pitch morning on one of the first lovely days in ages. It would probably be crowded today. She sat back and watched as people went about practicing their skills, or started mucking around for a laugh with their friends. It reminded her of simpler times, when she was a few years younger and taking advantage of a nice morning to enjoy a broom ride. When all that she had to worry about was a nice broom ride.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed some familiar faces. Her cousins James and Rosie had entered together, and while they gave the pitch a quick look around, they seemed to be gravitating toward her as a final destination.

"You're up early," James said as he approached her, broom in hand and a sleepy look in his eyes. Rosie was several paces behind him, also carrying a broom but hers was a school loaner. It was probably a hundred years old and most likely struggled to keep itself aligned in a straight line.

"I'm always up early these days," she said, as she leaned her broom against the bench and started inspecting the sky. "Why are you up so early?"

"Because I asked him for help," Rosie said brightly, seemingly wide awake. "And I wanted to get out here before there were too many people." She looked a little anxious. "I'm still working things out and don't want to make a fool of myself."

Dominique grinned a little, feeling more connected to that statement than Rosie could possibly have ever known. She glanced at James. "Nice of you to help."

He shrugged. Dominique watched as he began to stretch himself out and instructed Rosie to do the same. They were both bent over when she added, "I saw your parents last night."

"Yeah, we did too," he said, standing back up. "They always say hello when they're here." He stopped stretching. "How'd my dad do?"

"Fine. A bit quiet and withdrawn, but that's normal for him. I don't think I've really seen him be anything else."

He begrudged her a smile. "It can be a rough night for him. And I know Aunt Hermione didn't come, which throws him off. He likes having her and Uncle Ron around when talking about that stuff."

"Because they're the best," Rosie said in a sing-song way as she touched her toes.

"You need to stretch your arms out," he instructed, gesturing for her to follow his lead as he pulled his arm across his chest.

Dominique again watched them, taking in Rosie as she actually—and without complaint—listened to James and did what he asked. They'd bent and stretched in several directions; once she'd finished, she threw Dominique a grin as if to say she was ready to go.

"So, what do you think about your mum becoming Minister of Magic?" she asked.

The grin slipped off Rosie's face, though she just as quickly seemed to realize that had spoken volumes and forced another back on. "It's...great. She's really keen."

"Ok, but I asked what _you_ thought," Dominique said. "And it's only me, Rosie. You can tell me the truth."

Rosie hesitated for a minute, but ultimately took a deep breath. "I'm happy for her, but...she's obviously going to be working a lot more."

"Yeah, but you're here at school," James said, still stretching. "And Hugo's coming next year, so—"

"I know," she said, nodding slowly. "I get that. It's great, but it's also a lot to take in." She shrugged. "That's really it. I'm happy she's happy, but being the Minister of Magic's kid comes with added scrutiny of always being in the public eye. Everyone thinks they know you and your family—"

"Gee, I wonder what that's like?" mumbled James. Rosie conceded to his point.

"I mean, your mum's Hermione Granger and your dad's Ron Weasley," Dominique said. "Haven't you always…?"

"Yes and no," Rosie said, looking up at the sky. "Before it was based on what happened in the past. Now it's everything happening in the present. Her name will be in the papers every day. She'll be doing things that people will have opinions about." She pulled a slight face. "It's a change."

That seemed like a valid point, and Dominique nodded before adding, "You know, I've always been thankful to be a part of the lesser known branch of the Weasley family tree."

"Must be nice," James muttered, and Rosie was immediately nodding.

After that, Dominique and James set to work helping Rosie build some of her Quidditch skills, which Dominique immediately noticed were fairly good, but not great. There was potential there, and if she were being honest, she could see a lot of a younger, greener Jack in her. That wasn't to say she'd get to his level or get as good—seeing as Jack had always obsessively worked on getting better every day by the time he was Rosie's age—but she could if she wanted to put in the effort. If James was willing to continually work with her throughout the summer, she could be a decent Chaser candidate the following year. She could easily take James' soon to be vacant spot.

As Dominique and James stood back to watch Rosie fly off and do some laps to build speed, she found herself glancing over at James. They were standing directly beside the bench she'd cried on earlier in the year after he'd challenged her and beaten her out for the Seeker position. It seemed he'd ended up getting it in the end anyway; he'd done it in the last two matches now, as well as finishing up the season. He would end up being the Seeker in more matches than she would this season, which perhaps was the universe telling her that this was the way it was supposed to be. He had won the spot after all. The universe gets what it wants in the end.

"So," she suddenly said to him, "you'll probably be Seeking the rest of the season."

He turned and looked at her. "Why? Have you quit?" He looked around. "This is actually the first time I've even seen you on the pitch in ages."

"I haven't quit," she said with a heavy breath. "It was more of an injury."

"What happened? No one seems to know."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Because I got in trouble for something and Longbottom's gone and suspended me from the team for the remainder of the year. I'm not allowed to play anymore."

James' jaw dropped.

She nervously laughed at his reaction. "It's fine. I wouldn't have played anyway, remember? Now it's official." She forced a smile. "This is good for you. You were supposed to be the Seeker all along. You beat me. It should have been yours and now it is."

She found herself feeling a little emotional as that last bit came out and turned away, now trying to find Rosie up among the people in the air. "Just, do a good job, alright? I mean, I know I was done anyway after this year and couldn't be the Seeker forever, but…" She inhaled very sharply to mask a sniffle she felt coming on, "Just...don't fuck it up. Ok, James?"

"I won't," he said quietly. "But, shit..."

"It's fine. Honestly."

"What did Jack say?"

"He doesn't know."

"How does he not—?"

"I haven't seen him since it happened," she said, right as Rosie landed. "This all occurred last night."

"What did you do to get banned?"

She chose to ignore him, and instead walked straight over to Rosie. She immediately launched into how she needed to adjust her grip in order to gain better control and work on her foot placement in order to maintain faster speeds. Speed and accuracy was crucial for a Chaser.

"You're not going to get much done on that shitty school broom," Dominique said. "Tell your mum with her salary increase she needs to invest in a proper one for you." She turned around and walked back over to the bench to pick up her own broom, now extending it out for her cousin to use. "Try mine and see the difference a good broom can make."

"Can I really try it?" Rosie asked, looking a little awestruck as she took it out of Dominique's hands. "James never lets me try his broom."

"Because I have it all perfectly set to my preferences. You'll muck it up."

Dominique had actually never let anyone try hers either for the same reasons, at least not in the past, but she didn't see a reason to be so fiercely protective of it any longer. She'd have been thrilled if someone had extended her this courtesy when she was younger. Rosie deserved to know what it felt like to ride on a great broom.

She began to mount it and accidentally let the bristle-end drop to the floor a little aggressively, causing Dominique and James to immediately cringe. "Just, please be careful."

"Sorry," Rosie sheepishly said before—after a bit of coaxing—taking to the sky rather forcefully. Dominique found herself holding her breath as she sped off, hoping her broom returned in one piece.

It would, of course, and Rosie looked more alive after that run than any of the others, which was a rather fun thing to see. The rest of the morning was spent teaching basic technique as well as more specialized instruction; something Dominique hadn't really done in ages. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed watching someone put the pieces together and finally making it happen for themselves.

As she walked back to the changing room later that morning, she found herself giving it a long and lingering once over. For four years, this had been one of her most favorite places at Hogwarts; now she technically wasn't allowed to even be here. This was for members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which she was no longer a part of. This was no longer a sacred space for her.

She walked over to her locker and opened it, looking it up and down to investigate its contents. Broom scissors and handle polish; grip gloves and extra socks. There were three dirty, beat up hoodies—one of which she hadn't worn all year—as well as so many pieces of equipment, first aid kit, and bits of broom maintenance from over the years. She tried to tell herself that she would have had to do this in two months time regardless, but it didn't make it any easier. She grabbed the bag that she'd lugged down and began filling it up with everything that was inside.

Once she was done—her bag full and her broom in hand—she once again glanced around the room. Fuck, this part was hard. She'd experienced so much between these walls and out in these tunnels. The highest of highs and the lowest of lows; fights, snogging, celebrations, and tears. So many firsts and now so many lasts. She rubbed her nose before taking a very heavy breath. Best to rip it all off like a bandage and get it over with. She looked around one last time before she knocked her fist on her locker for good measure. With that, she made her exit.

People were walking in the tunnels—coming and going and enjoying the freedom of Open Pitch. She took solace in knowing that she still had that available to enjoy some time on her broom. As frustrating an experience as flying was lately, it didn't mean she loved it any less. It was still her happy place—just a bit less so than before.

She'd barely gotten a few yards outside of the changing room before she'd looked up and saw Jack approaching from the opposite direction. He hadn't noticed her yet, but he was walking with a purpose. His hair was uncombed and he looked exhausted, but she could already recognize the person she knew and loved in his demeanor—which was a welcomed sight after dealing with the drunken version of him the night before.

She let herself lean up against the stone wall in anticipation of him noticing her, though it took him until he was feet away for him to actually do that. He looked as if he was about to walk right past in a preoccupied stupor, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Surprised you didn't check here first," she said, not having the slightest idea if he was angry with her or where his head was currently. She wasn't even particularly sure where they stood seeing as last night had very much been a blur. "You know I come here every morning."

"What were you thinking?" he asked, obviously not here to talk about her morning plans. He looked lost and confused; as if he'd had a very long night. She suddenly wondered how long he'd spent in that bush.

She pulled herself off the wall. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Dominique."

"Oh. My actual name." She pulled a slight face. "You mean business."

He didn't react in the slightest and continued to stare straight at her. Was he angry? Was he upset? What was he? She couldn't get a read on him in the slightest.

"What were you thinking?" he repeated.

"I was thinking about saving your arse," she said. "Someone had to." She looked away. "Sorry about the curse, by the way. I would have warned you if I could, but there wasn't time. I also didn't want you to fight me on it."

"I didn't ask you to save me."

"You didn't have to. Do you have any idea how wasted you were?"

His eyes flinched in an exhausted manner, as if to say he obviously had an idea. "I feel like absolute shit right now and I can barely remember anything that happened last night, so yes. I know I drank too much."

"It's probably better you don't. I wish I could erase a lot of it. Especially the stuff I said that caused you to start drinking in the first place."

"That, I remember," he muttered, now stepping up beside her to lean himself on the wall. "I was convinced you were going to chuck me."

"I know. You told me that in not so many words last night. You definitely got in a few good ones on me. Certainly made me think about some things."

He grimaced a little, his hangover displayed all over his features. "If I said something rude, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "I deserved it."

"No, you don't," he said quietly, which she found rather sweet. Completely untrue and painfully naive considering he knew her well enough to know she almost always brought these things upon herself, but sweet nonetheless.

"I don't want to break up with you," she said, leaning next to him against the wall so that their shoulders were touching. "I never did and I'm sorry if I gave out that impression. I'm just dealing with a lot and took it out on you." She paused and glanced over to him. "Now, you may want to break up with me considering I literally cursed you and pushed you in a bush—"

"What were you thinking?" he asked again, his tone from earlier returning as he seemed to remember why he'd come here in the first place. "Nic, seriously, why did you do that?"

"Curse you?"

"Take the fall for me," he said. "I don't care that you cursed me. I understand how that made sense to you at the time. I care that you let yourself get in trouble for something I did."

"You know bloody well you had far more to lose than I did."

He sighed as if he didn't believe that.

"I tried to tell you last night, but you didn't care. You were going to do what you wanted to do. I couldn't let you lose everything like I have because you wanted to be an idiot." She sighed. "And Longbottom went easier on me than he would have you. He took mercy because of my spell damage."

"I can handle a few detentions."

"Could you handle being suspended from Quidditch for the rest of the season? Being kicked off the team?"

He turned and looked at her rather urgently, his eyes landing on her broom and her bag before back up to her. "Nic, what's in the bag?"

"That would be the contents of my locker," she said matter-of-factly, holding her bag up in the air for him to see. "Seeing as I've been permanently suspended and I'm no longer on the team, I had to clean it out." She shook her head at him. "Did you really think getting caught leaving the grounds and coming back with alcohol was only going to get you a few detentions?"

He continued to stare at her rather horrified until he slowly shut his eyes and let his head thump back against the stone wall. After a long moment, he slowly ran his hands through his hair before finally looking back at her. "I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say."

"It's not as if I was going to play anyway."

"That's not the point. You were always a member of the team," he said. "And now, you're just not? Just like that? Longbottom ended it with a snap of his fingers?"

"I technically ended it when I was caught breaking a rule."

"But you didn't…" He was now looking upset. "This is my fault. I'm the reason…" He trailed off before angrily whispering, "Fuck."

She found herself smiling at him, touched that he blamed himself for something that had started well before last night and was beyond what he was blaming himself for. He couldn't have known that. No one could. "It goes a bit deeper than you. And if I'm being honest, I'm.. fine with it."

"Well, I'm not."

"Jack, I lost very little that I hadn't already lost. At least now I don't have to make up strange excuses as to why I'm not coming to practice or playing anymore." She reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. "This would have been worse for you, and I feel better knowing it's not. And I know you'll never admit it, but you know that, too."

He stared at her.

"I can't let you fuck up your—or Gryffindor's—future," she said. "We've worked too hard and they need you. They need you more than they need me."

"That's not—"

"It is true," she interrupted. "And I'm telling you that I'm fine with it. Life goes on and I'll keep trying." She grinned at him. "You know I'm good at trying. You said so yourself."

"I...sorry? What?"

"About how I'm always trying?

The reference was evidently lost on the sober version of him. She waved him off after it was clear it wasn't worth explaining. "Nevermind. I don't want to talk about last night anymore because it sucked. It really sucked."

He was nodding slowly. "It absolutely did."

"So, let's drop it," she said. "I've been punished, you'll live to play Quidditch another day, and neither of us are going to feel guilty about that. Life will go on." She reached down to take his hand. "But will we go on?"

That last part had been phrased as a question specifically because, while she was ready to forget about things, she still wasn't entirely sure where Jack stood. He was apologetic and remorseful about what had happened, but whether or not he wanted to keep up with her sideshow of a life remained to be seen.

"Yeah, we'll go on," he said with a squeeze of her hand before gripping it tighter. "I'd be a right prat to break up with you after you saved me last night."

"Well, here's hoping that's not the only reason."

"It's not," he said, leaning in to kiss her. It felt like their first kiss in ages, even if it had only been less than twenty-four hours. She let herself soak it in, happy to be back to a place where she could do this to him instead of cursing him into a bush.

Once he pulled away, he gestured for her to let him carry something, and she opted to let him carry her broom. She'd begun to lead the way out of the tunnel when she suddenly felt him tug back on her hand to keep her from leaving. When she turned to see what had happened, he said, "I love you, too."

She'd been taken off guard by that—in a pleasant way—and couldn't help but grin. She was also caught by the fact he'd said 'too', which instantly reminded her of the Witch's Wordplay game from months earlier. Though, the 'too' was also curious because she hadn't said anything to prompt it, unless he was talking about…?

"I thought you didn't remember much from last night?"

"I remembered that," he said. "And the only reason I didn't say it back was because I was drunk. I didn't want to be wasted the first time I said it. But I do."

She continued to smile, though she looked away because she was starting to feel a little self conscious with all of this raw emotion. She truly would miss this arena and everything she'd ever experienced within these tunnels and out on the pitch. Even on her way out the door, she was still making memories she would never forget.

* * *

In the week that followed, Gryffindor completely destroyed Hufflepuff in their final regular match of the season. Dominique hadn't been able to attend given that she'd been serving her first of two detentions with Professor Longbottom, but she'd heard it had been a completely one-sided massacre. Jack had played James at Chaser in order to let him, Eatins, and Alice run the score up as high as possible since they needed the points. Rory had gone in the Seeker spot and done nothing more than placehold the position. Hufflepuff had actually got the Snitch for the first time all season, which caused them to celebrate rather excitedly for achieving that. The final score had been 570 to 210.

Slytherin and Ravenclaw had also played, and even though Dominique had wanted nothing more than for Ravenclaw to win and put Slytherin out of contention completely, they'd slipped up at the end when two of their Chasers, Baileymoore and a third-year called Ackerly, crashed into each other and were knocked unconscious. Slytherin had taken full advantage, running the score up as they always did; even with Giggleswick catching an ill-timed Snitch, Slytherin managed to edge them out by twenty points.

That left the final team records—Hufflepuff excluded—to be tied across the board at four wins and two losses each. Jack had recounted to her how he was a nervous wreck as the score tallies were compiled to see which two teams had scored the most over the season, and thus would be continuing onto the Quidditch Cup. They could all only hope that Slytherin's last minute comeback would be too little, too late.

As luck would have it, it was. Ravenclaw led the point tally by 130 over Gryffindor. Slytherin had fallen just sixty points short.

"I still can't believe how close it came," Louis was saying over breakfast the following day, making a rare appearance down on their end of the table. He usually ate with the Beauxbatons duo, but they'd already come and gone—much to his disappointment.

"Sixty bloody points," Jack said between bites. "I nearly had a heart attack. Erin looked like she could have cried."

"I would have," Dominique said from beside him, "their comeback was probably the most impressive thing I've seen a team do since starting school."

"Without question," Jack agreed. "And I told her that. Three-quarters of their total points were achieved in the last three matches. And Zara only played in two of them. Those numbers are insane."

Dominique nodded as Natalie, from across the table, suddenly said, "Shame it's another Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cup."

"Right," said Eleanor. "I hate rooting against Ravenclaw."

Dominique pulled a face. "Ew, why?"

She shrugged, just as Natalie added, "I sort of would have liked to see Slytherin in there instead. It would have been something new." She was met with Jack and Dominique staring at her, both of their eyes narrowed in a way that made her quickly add, "Instead of Ravenclaw, of course. Obviously."

Now it was Eleanor's turn to glare at her; it made Natalie throw her hands up in surrender, as if she couldn't be bothered with any of it.

"Honestly, it's fitting to go out on Ravenclaw. They've always been the one to trip us up the most," said Jack, just as the sound of wings flapping to signal the arrival of the morning post caught the attention of the room.

Everyone sitting near Dominique and Louis suddenly grab at their cups and plates and remove them from the table; protecting themselves from the impending onslaught of letters. While Dominique's mail had calmed since she'd stopped being featured, Louis was still getting letters in the hundreds—especially since the tournament was due to end soon. People wanted to wish him good luck; some wanted to give him tips, which was strange seeing as no one knew what the task even was. It made for a mess at breakfast, which had been one of the reasons no one had complained when he'd started eating with the Beauxbatons' pair.

Their letters came bundled now, with twine wrapped around them to hold them together and very large owls carrying them in. Once the four to five bundles fell around Louis—and one in front of Dominique—it was over rather quickly these days. Louis immediately took each bundle and began stacking them on the bench beside him, still not at all interested in looking at any of them.

He'd taken to letting Freddie and Albus have at them, allowing them to keep anything interesting they may find as long as they returned any actual mail he may have. They often would join their friends and have a laugh at some of the funnier ones, though they'd apparently found a rather scantily clad photograph of a woman the day before that had excited the lot of them. When Louis asked to see what exactly it was, none of the boys seemed to have a clue what he was talking about. Later that day, Dominique heard a rumor that it had been circulating the Gryffindor common room all afternoon.

Freddie had appeared to take Louis' bundles far faster than he usually would; a very eager nature about him. It caused Louis to roll his eyes as he handed them over. "I feel as if I've allowed you to be corrupted."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Freddie said before he turned and walked away with his arms full. Moments later, he'd rejoined his friends and they'd begun tearing into the letters like a pack of rabid dogs.

Everyone else was already reading their mail, including Sarah, who had already read through her own and had moved onto Dominique's. She still would sort the junk into piles out of habit, and for reasons Dominique wasn't even sure of anymore. It had started as a laugh, but now it had almost become a routine for her.

The sound of someone yelling out from the Ravenclaw table caught the attention of everyone around them. Giggleswick was standing and getting high-fives and pats on the back from his friends and other randoms. He seemed ecstatic, and while she was obviously curious, she wasn't about to ask. It apparently didn't matter, since he very deliberately—and in a tone clearly meant to gloat—called out. "I've been invited to the Trials."

She frowned and looked away. She'd had a run in with Giggleswick recently, which had been a long time coming. After the spectacle she'd caused at the Camp Out, people were naturally curious as to what happened to her, and she oddly enough had no problem telling everyone the truth; that she'd been kicked off the Quidditch team. Most people were shocked, especially her fellow Quidditch teammates. Even players from the other teams seemed to find the news rather surprising—after all, who was she without Quidditch?

"I'd have thought you'd have thrown yourself off the Astronomy Tower," Erin said to her in Defense Against the Dark Arts after hearing the news. "This is _you_ we're talking about."

"It's fine," Dominique said, not looking up from the revision work she was currently speeding through. Fletchly had said once it was completed, they could schedule an appointment with her for one-on-one defensive spell practice prior to their N.E.W.T. If she was the first one done, she would have first crack at the slots.

"How is it not a big deal, Weasley? You live and breathe Quidditch."

She shrugged, still never taking her eyes off of the parchment as she ticked several more answers. "I can still breathe it," she finally looked up at her, "but I suppose I'm going to have to find something else to live."

And while most of the comments had been in the same vein as Erin's, she hadn't been the least bit surprised when she'd found herself running into Giggleswick on the stairs one afternoon—him coming up and her going down—and that he'd had something to say. She was surprised it had taken him so long.

"I knew you'd finally fuck up bad enough to get yourself kicked off the team," he'd said, staring straight at her. "About bloody time. It would have been nice if it had happened years ago and saved me the grief, but I'll take it now."

She smirked at him. She hated him and always would for the years of torment, but she had no rage for him left in her any longer. Whatever trigger he'd always had on her didn't work anymore. She'd always let him set her off, but she'd come to realize she could make the choice not to. She had so many other things to do and places to be; it honestly seemed easier to just ignore him and carry on. They wouldn't even have to meet on the pitch any longer, so she truly was free of him.

"You know," she said, never stopping her descent down the stairs, "that may have been the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

His expression immediately looked baffled. "I didn't say anything nice."

"Well, I took it that way," she said, passing by him. "After all, if you weren't afraid of me or worried about what I was going to do, why else would you have wanted me kicked off?"

"Because I don't like you."

She laughed. "Nor I, you, But I'll sleep easier knowing that I actually got into that head of yours for the last few years. It means I did something right." She turned to walk off. "You definitely challenged me, Giggles. I'll give you that. I won't give you anything else, but that I'll give you."

Giggleswick was still waving his invitation around and showing anyone who would look, though Dominique averted her eyes and attempted to pretend she hadn't noticed. She now glanced over at Sarah, who had stopped sorting through the post to watch her. In an attempt to make her voice sound casual, Dominique asked. "Any real mail?"

"So far, only the rubbish."

Every one sitting beside her was tentatively watching as if expecting her to react negatively to Giggleswick's news, but she instead pretended as if her waffle was the most interesting thing in the world at that moment.

"If Giggles got one," Flynn said, "You had to have gotten one as well."

She looked up at him, only to find that he hadn't been speaking to her, but to Jack. He was absolutely right. If Giggleswick had gotten his invitation, Jack had to have gotten his. She turned and noticed that he was randomly watching the rest of the room, as if avoiding her gaze. When he did finally turn to meet her, he seemed to be playing oblivious.

"Did you get yours?" she asked.

He sighed a little and, begrudgingly, reached over to where he'd set a piece of parchment down on his opposite side. He slowly handed it to her; she could already see the IQA symbol printed on the letter.

"Why didn't you say something?" she asked, opening it up to find—sure enough—it congratulated Mr. Jack Ians for being invited back to the 2019 Quidditch Training Trials. She scanned it twice, looking over the details of his stay and when he was required to be there. She immediately looked up at him. "You've been invited."

There was a smattering of a cheer around the table, with mostly Flynn and Louis shouting out in celebration while everyone else gave happy congratulations. Jack smiled modestly and mostly seemed to shrug off everyone's praise. "Giggles did enough celebrating for the both of us."

"Jack," she said, staring at him. "Seriously? This is amazing. I mean, yes, we all knew it was going to happen, but to actually get the invitation in your hands?" She held it up. "Don't tell me you were afraid to tell me?"

He made a face, though it was Louis who muttered, "Can you blame him?"

"Shut it," she said to her brother before rounding back on Jack. "Come on. We knew this was coming. This is something to celebrate, not hide."

"And I would have," Jack said. "I was just going to tell you in private first."

"But why?"

"Oh, I can answer that," Louis said, actually raising his hand in the air as if he were in class.

"Louis, I swear to Merlin…"

"We could all answer that," Flynn quipped, which caused Louis to first bump in solidarity. Even Jack chuckled.

Tommy had walked down the length of the table, followed by Kenley on their way out. He caught Jack's eyes and immediately nodded over toward Giggleswick, stopping right as he reached Jack. "If that little fucker got an invitation, I assume they've sent you three and they're all gold plated."

"Eh, not quite," Jack said. "But I did get mine, yeah."

Both Tommy and Kenley's faces lit up as the congratulations poured out of them. They immediately launched into how it had been inevitable and they knew he would, how cool it was for him, and how they couldn't wait to watch him on the pitch when they got to go that summer as well.

"Because we're definitely going," Tommy said, gesturing to him and Kenley. "I've heard it's the fucking best time and I cannot wait." He smiled at Jack. "We can get fucked up together! I've never seen you drunk."

"Please don't," Dominique said, though that plea was more for Jack's benefit than Tommy's. Jack was already shaking his head at her as if he knew how bad an idea that was, though he did offer for Tommy to come around earlier in the summer and they could be drunk and dumb before his entire career was on the line.

"You get an invite, Nicki?" Tommy asked.

She sunk into herself a bit, letting her shoulders slump forward. "No."

"That's rubbish," Tommy offered. "If Giggles got one, I don't know how…" He trailed off. "But you're still going back to the Trials, right?"

No. She wasn't. Going back would result in her being made a fool of. She had no desire for that. Worst yet, was now that she hadn't been invited, she'd have to actually pay fees to attend. She'd have to pay to be made a fool of.

"Hadn't thought about it," she lied, glancing over at Jack. "Probably not."

'What do you mean?" Jack asked, looking as if that was news to him. She didn't have time to answer, what with Tommy now announcing to everyone that they didn't have to wait for the summer to get fucked up; that he was well prepared for the ball this weekend and the apparent after-party he and his roommates were planning back in Gryffindor Tower. He seemed rather excited, as did Kenley.

"It's going to be a great night," Tommy said matter-of-factly as he put his arm around Kenley.

"I take it you plucked up the courage and got yourself a date, then," Jack asked, alluding to Kenley.

"First of all, I'm not a fan of your tone," Tommy joked. "Second, yes. I have a date." He gestured to Kenley. "Yes, we're going together."

"Good for you," Jack joked, still smirking. "Happy to hear you put your big boy trousers on and—"

"Again with the tone," Tommy said as he started to walk off, "Shall we compare the amount of time it took for the both of us to make it happen? Because you—"

"Oh, stop," Kenley said, pushing him along. "We've been at it since fourth-year. You will lose. You took forever." She threw everyone a quick wave to excuse them as they set off.

Sarah watched them go before glancing back at Dominique and Jack. "Are they not already together? I thought they'd been together for ages."

"They're not, _not_ together," Jack offered, just as Dominique said, "They're strange."

Sarah's expression seemed to say 'pot meet kettle' but she didn't say it. She instead returned to flipping through Dominique's mail, opening one letter at random to read it. Down the table, Freddie had then returned with a letter for Louis that apparently wasn't random, handing it to him with the words, "It's from Aunt Fleur," before disappearing as quickly as he came.

"What's she got to say now," Louis said, taking the folded letter and beginning to open it. He glanced down at his sister. "Have you been getting more letters than usual from mum?"

She nodded as if to say she had, but it wasn't that much more if she were being honest. After the events of the second task, her mother had taken to writing more frequently; asking if things were alright, wanting updates as to what was being done, wanting to know if they were handling things. Dominique had written her back to tell her she was mostly fine—mentioning her new anxiety issues, but not making them seem bad since she didn't want her to worry. She'd answered her questions, but her mother still continued to write, almost as if she didn't believe her. Dominique had honestly gotten busy with school and Jack; she hadn't gotten around to responding to all of them. She knew she had things to tell her—she'd probably heard about her Quidditch suspension, as well as her having a new boyfriend from her aunt and uncles—but she was seeing her soon at the ball. That stuff could wait for an in-person meeting.

Louis had sighed. "She's got opinions."

"About?"

"About the ball being in four days," he muttered. "About what I'm wearing. About how I'm feeling. About what I'm doing." He rolled his eyes.

Dominique smirked, happy to watch Louis deal with that and not her. From beside her, Jack suddenly nudged her. "Hey, what do you mean you're not going to the Trials? When did you decide that?"

"Are you serious?"

"I figured you'd still go," he said. "We could spend the week together. You can still fly and play."

"Poorly. I'd get busted down to the worst group on day one. Then they'd put me in that awful dorm that everyone's always got horror stories from."

"No," Jack corrected. "You'd stay with the people who got ranked seven the previous year. They wouldn't move you even if you did get sent down. And who cares where they put you? You can sleep in my room."

"I'd still be sent to the bottom," she muttered. "Top group mindset with bottom group skills. I wouldn't even want to come back if my ranking dropped that low."

"So, don't go back after this year," he said. "I don't plan to. But we'd still have this year."

"You don't—?" She stopped before she even finished the sentence. Right. Obviously he wasn't planning to go back. He'd have no reason to if he got picked up by a proper team.

"Will you at least think about it?" Jack asked. "Let me convince you to go."

"I don't see how…" she began, though when she saw the way he was looking at her—almost pleading for her to consider it—the least she could do was at least placate him in the moment. "Fine, I'll think about it."

He smiled as he reached over and gave her knee a squeeze. At the same time, Sarah held out a letter to her and said, "For you," before accidentally knocking her neat stack of mail over the floor in the process. She swore a little and immediately went to retrieve the ones that had fallen, thrusting the letter directly at her. Dominique already recognized the perfect script on the envelope from across the table and knew exactly whom it was from. She groaned.

Her mother. So much this being Louis' problem. She took the letter and began lazily ripping it open, forcing herself to take a deep breath before noticing immediately that her mother meant business since the letter was written in French. She always wrote in her native language when she had things to say.

"Is yours in French, too?" she asked Louis.

He nodded without looking up.

Her mother immediately seemed aggravated due to the lack of communication lately, especially in the wake of what had happened at Beauxbatons. She'd been getting more regular updates from Professor McGonagall than either she or Louis, and she wasn't amused by that. Dominique wanted to know exactly what she was supposed to tell her that she hadn't already, seeing as no one had any answers for her or had come close to reversing their spell damage. She wasn't trying to keep her mother out of the loop—there was no loop.

And just as she expected, the letter also immediately launched into why she was no longer on the Quidditch team, which she'd heard from Ginny—who Dominique assumed had heard from James since her mother mentioned him as the new Seeker. Ginny had also told her she had a boyfriend who was apparently very good at Quidditch, though she couldn't remember his name. "Is this true?" and "This isn't Henry again?" she had asked, which made Dominique immediately wrinkle her nose. In what world was he ever considered good at Quidditch? He doesn't even go to school or play Quidditch any longer. Did she know anything about him?

Actually, she probably didn't. She never talked about him much. But she'd definitely mentioned he'd graduated the same time Victoire had.

She lastly brought up the ball, stating that she already took it upon herself to find her an appropriate outfit, which Dominique sighed at. Sure, she was happy that her mother took care of things since she couldn't be bothered, but she was also a bit terrified of what she'd present to her. Not that it mattered—she'd be wearing it regardless.

Apparently, her mother and Victoire were coming in earlier in the day, and that an old school friend was coming from Beauxbatons to help their champions get ready. She would love to help them as well, and Dominique was to join them in the carriage after lunch. Some mother/daughter prep time, as it were.

Well, that sounded rather like a nightmare. She sighed once more, but she also knew this was all beyond her control right now. Her mother had a vision in mind and it would be fulfilled. She was nothing more than a pawn in this.

The letter had finished saying that she would love a response back, but didn't intend to hear from her until her arrival that weekend. If she was bringing this boyfriend of hers as a date, to please be sure he dressed the part. Not only was this Louis' evening and it was important to make a good impression, they also wanted to meet him. It would be best to make good impressions all around. She must have finally remembered to whom she was writing to because she'd closed with, "I know none of this interests you, but it's important to the rest of us. You can do it one night."

"Shit," Dominique muttered, looking at Louis. "She really does have so many opinions about this. She's actually asking me to make sure my date's dressed properly."

Sarah had pointed across the table to Jack at hearing that. "That would be you. Better look smart or face the wrath of Fleur."

Jack made a face as if to say he didn't want that, though he immediately switched over to a more playful smirk. "So, I shouldn't wear my Quidditch uniform?"

"I'd prefer the Quidditch uniform," Dominique muttered at the same time Natalie said, "Ew, stop. I hope you have actual formal dress robes—"

"Yes, I have actual formal dress robes," he said as if that was a dumb question.

"I am soooo glad I don't have to stress over any of this," Sarah said as she continued to flip through the last of this mail.

"Stop. You're going," said Natalie, just as Flynn also said, "Seriously Sar, just come." Even Jack had asked, "Why would you want to skip it?"

Sarah stopped to throw Jack the most obvious look of all time.

"Give me one good reason why you don't want to go," he asked.

"Because Louis sucks," she said without hesitation. "Why would I go to a night dedicated to him?"

Everyone stopped what they were doing then. Louis, who was sitting just on the other side of Flynn and Natalie and well within earshot—looked up from reading their mother's letter. He didn't look at Sarah, but he was currently making an expression at no one in particular that could best be described as ' _what the fuck_?'

"You're aware he's sitting right there?" Flynn said.

"Very aware," she said, again not missing a beat. She'd even smiled.

Louis said nothing in response to her, though he did let out a breathy sort of noise before gathering his things to stand. "Well, with that, I'll be off." He glanced around the table. "See you all."

As he walked off, with Sarah not looking the least bit guilty, Natalie also began to stand. "We need to get going. Class starts soon."

"Yeah, we do," Jack agreed, and everyone began tidying up and gathering their things. Sarah had compiled a large stack of letters and held them out to Dominique, asking her if she wanted them straight in the bin. Dominique didn't even have to answer, her face spoke it all. Sarah immediately lobbed them into a nearby bin.

"Wait," Natalie said, having bent over to the floor of where they'd been sitting and coming up with another envelope. "This one was still on the floor."

Dominique took it from her and had already stepped toward the bin to dispose of it, though not before casually glancing down to check that it wasn't important. When she did, she immediately noticed the IQA logo on the front of the envelope. It made her stop in her tracks.

"I'll meet you before lunch," Jack said to her, having leaned in to quickly kiss her goodbye since he had to make the walk to Herbology. She'd been a bit startled, but kissed him back. At the same time, she hastily stuck the letter in the pocket of her robes. For whatever reason, she didn't want anyone to see it.

Once he pulled away, she forced a smile onto her face, nodding rather quickly. "Sure. Right."

He smiled and set off to catch up with Flynn, Sarah, and Natalie. She waited until they'd all actually left the Great Hall before she reached back into her pocket and pulled out the now crumbled envelope. She glanced around before tearing into it and pulling out the letter inside.

_Dear Miss Dominique Weasley, due to your ranking from the previous year's Trials, we'd like to invite you…_

Dominique's eyes went wider than saucers. Shit. This had to be a joke. She flipped the letter over in her hands, not seeing anything that indicated this was actually a joke. But how had she possibly managed to receive an invitation back when she'd barely played this season? Yes, she was technically a top four Seeker last year, but was that really all it took? Were they that weak on Seekers this year?

Maybe they were, because who else were they going to invite? She and Giggleswick had been the best of the school-aged athletes then. But it didn't change the fact that she'd completely under performed this season. She had to have been completely coasting on the ranking and last year's performance. They must have had little to pick from; that or someone was keen on her and wanted her to get a shot.

But she had to remember that it didn't matter. There was no amount of practicing and hard work that would get her back to the level she needed to be to be considered worthy of being an invitation Seeker. If she went, she would flop and make a fool of herself in the first five minutes. It really was a joke—a cruel one at that.

She wasn't upset, though. She was, oddly enough, honored to have been invited. That meant at one point, she'd been worthy of a shot.

She glanced around the Great Hall, where no one was paying attention to get reading her letter; no one was any the wiser that she was now an invitation Seeker to the Quidditch Trials. It was the highest honor a school-aged Quidditch player could receive and she had no one to share the news with.

But that was ultimately a good thing. With a heavy sigh, she folded the letter back up and held it for a moment longer. She stared at it one second longer before reaching over and dropping it in the bin.


	17. The Carriage

That following weekend, Dominique stared up at the large blue carriage that had been taking up residence on the grounds for the last few weeks. It, like everything Beauxbatons touched, was ornately decorated with fine details and had an entirely posh quality about it that Dominique didn't quite understand. Perhaps if she's gone to school there she would, but she was a Hogwarts' girl—happily no frills. Her mother had always whimsically told stories about how she'd wished her children had attended Beauxbatons, and while Victoire and Louis would have fit in just fine, Dominique now realized she was meant for Hogwarts from day one. While Vic and Louis could do Hogwarts, she really didn't think she could do Beauxbatons.

When she'd awoken that morning, the first thing out of her mouth had been a groan. The ball was today, which meant getting ready for the ball had to happen today. It meant having to deal with her mother in her hyper dress-up mode; listening to Victorie make her comments; Louis being the center of the universe more than usual.

Today was going to be a long day.

"You alright?" Jack had asked groggily, her groan having woken him up. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," she mumbled, now looking over at him. "Can we just skip today?"

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. "Don't think that's possible."

"Let's forget everything," she continued, reaching over to sling her arm around him. "Ignore it all. We could stay here all day and snog instead."

That seemed to have piqued his interest.

"Or do whatever," she said very specifically, alluding to the many other things they could do with a long day in bed. "I'd be game for whatever. As long as you don't make me go and get ready, I'll do whatever you want."

He laughed at that. "You act as if I need to be convinced. I'd happily keep you here. But…" He ran his hands up and down her back and threw her an obvious look. "They'll come looking for you."

With that she groaned again and rolled away from him. "Stupid bloody ball. Stupid bloody Louis."

Jack turned onto his side to face her, using his arm to support his head. "I don't know, I don't think it'll be so bad. I look good in dress robes. And you look good in anything."

"We both look better in nothing, which is why my plan is ultimately the better one."

"It is," he agreed as he reached out and started grazing her stomach absently. "And I say we put that one off for tomorrow." He suddenly stopped and looked at her funny. "Don't you have detention with Longbottom this morning?"

She closed her eyes. She's completely forgotten. This day kept getting better.

When she had finally pulled herself out of bed, she'd gone back to the girls' dorms to shower and brush her teeth, only to find the bathroom overrun with girls already beginning early preparations for the day. A giddy energy filling the room as they spoke of their expectations, their hair, their makeup, their dates. The ball was still roughly ten hours away. How long could it possibly take them to get ready?

Even Natalie and Eleanor, who Dominique had found in their room, were reviewing their plans for the day and the schedule they'd need to follow to be ready on time. There was even some last minute begging for Sarah to reconsider, but she seemed happy to sit back and observe everyone else rush about like chickens with their heads chopped off.

"Only thing I'm sad about is the fact that I won't get to see you all dressed up," Sarah said to Dominique as they walked to breakfast with Jack.

"Why?" Dominique muttered. "You've seen me dressed up before."

"Not like this," Sarah laughed. "Seeing you properly dressed up is the same as witnessing a unicorn. Rumored to be quite beautiful, but too rare to claim to know for sure."

Before leaving for her detention, she'd made her plans with Jack to meet him downstairs before the ball, seeing as she knew by the time Longbottom let her go, she'd be forced to go and meet her mother. They'd agreed on a spot, and she'd left him and Sarah outside the Great Hall before making the walk to the Herbology classroom. It was her and three other students—two fifth-year Hufflepuffs and a third-year Ravenclaw—who seemed to be fortunate enough to spend their Saturday morning together. Longbottom had her and the fifth-years break out their work to study for their impending exams while the third-year had to help him clean out plant pots. It made her wonder what the Ravenclaw must have done to have earned such a labor intensive punishment.

Three hours later, she now found herself standing outside of the big, blue carriage. Detention seemed rather welcomed right now.

"Here we go," she muttered to herself, walking up to knock on the door. She hoped her mother was here already. She didn't know if she had the energy to do this twice.

When the door opened, she was immediately greeted by the ever familiar face of her sister. Her perfect strawberry blonde hair falling down around her shoulders and her smile already planted on her face. She gave Dominique a once over before saying, "You're on time. You're never on time."

"I'm only not on time to things I don't want to do," she said as Victoire stepped out of the way and allowed her to enter.

"Does that mean you want to do this?"

"No, it means I got out of detention early and had nowhere else to go."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you were in detention."

She ignored her and instead was immediately met with the vast looking interior that reminded her of the general atmosphere of Beauxbatons. Windows letting in loads of light; grandiose, plush looking sitting areas; paintings on the walls. It was also so large. The area inside was larger than her living room. She could only see a few rooms that offset the main area, but there were clearly more inside the further one went. You could probably fit most of Gryffindor in here comfortably.

"All this for two people?" Dominique asked. "This is much larger than the bus Hogwarts has."

"Nice, isn't it?" Victoire said. "It can fit a load of people. And in the past it has—for mum's tournament. She's really in her element. She and Marie always walked the whole thing and started reminiscing . They've been telling endless stories about the year they spent living here."

"Marie?"

"Mum's friend. She's talked about her. They're friends from school and were in the same year. I guess she was one of the ones who came to Hogwarts and tried to enter the tournament when mum did. She's got her own salon in the wizarding district of Paris now—very posh. Volunteered to come up here for the day to prep everyone once mum contacted her." She smiled. "I'm actually really excited because I've heard she's amazing."

"Terrific," Dominique muttered.

"Get off it." She swatted at her. "People would kill for this."

"I'd kill to get out of this."

At that very moment, her mother and another woman—who was beautifully styled and impeccably dressed—appeared from an adjoining room. They were arm in arm, laughing and clearly enjoying each other's company as they set their sights on Dominique. Both of them smiled, though while her mother's looked natural and warm, this other woman was a bit over the top.

"Is this her?" asked the woman, turning toward her mother.

"This is her," her mother said, breaking away in order to embrace Dominique. "Good to see you, my love." She turned back to the other woman. "Dominique, this is my dear friend, Marie. Marie, my youngest daughter, Dominique."

This Marie woman immediately stepped forward to greet her and kiss her on both cheeks. Dominique couldn't help but notice that she smelled amazing—and rich. When she stood back to observe, her hand went immediately to her chest. "Fleur, she looks so much like you! It's as if the past has walked right through that door as a ghost!"

Her mother smiled. "I think she's far more beautiful than I ever was." She turned to Victoire. "Both of them."

"Simply stunning," Marie said. "Makes me wish I would have had children so I could see if I would have had any little versions of myself." She shrugged. "But I don't care for children much, so I'm ultimately happy I did not."

Dominique blinked and glanced over at Victoire, who was doing her usual 'polite smile and listen' act. She was so good at feigning interest in what people had to say when she didn't care.

"Come girls," said Marie, gesturing for them to follow. "I've set up in a room back here. Amalie will be joining us soon and I have to be sure to give Javier a once over as well. The boys take minutes to straighten out, but us—hours, of course. Our curse!" She laughed at her own joke.

Dominique laughed as well, though not because it was funny. Who was this lady? Why was her mother friends with her? The French version of her mother—her old friends and life—was so drastically different from the English version that it was almost bizarre. This wasn't the first instance Dominique had witnessed it, but she never got used to seeing it.

Victoire swatted her again, as if realizing what she was laughing at. She threw her a look to tell her to knock it off. Dominique returned it by making faces at her.

"Don't be a brat."

"Don't be a brown-noser."

They were led into a room that had several chairs and vanities set up. Marie explained that she'd brought in everything and had set up that morning. She immediately urged for someone to sit, and seeing that Victoire was standing nearby and eager, she was the one who took her up on that offer.

They all then had to listen to a rambling story about her salon in Paris and how she'd been trying for ages to convince their mother to come and visit recently. Apparently, their Aunt Gabrielle was a client and—Dominique did have to admit—she did have amazing hair.

Dominique took a vacant chair across the room as Marie now started gushing over Victoire's perfect hair and skin and apparent existence. She seemed convinced that this entire process would take no time at all seeing as "you're all already so lovely! What could I possibly do?!"

Dominique mumbled quietly under her breath, "The job you came here to do," though no one picked up on it. But they'd been back here for ten minutes already and Marie had done nothing more than run her hands through Victoire's hair a few times. Didn't she have to do Vic, her, her mother, Amalie, and Javier today? No wonder they had to start directly after lunch when the ball started at seven. This was going to take ages.

"Before we get started," Marie said, now apparently finding another reason to not start, "Can I get anyone anything? I have champagne. Some wine?"

Dominique looked up at that. Hold on. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. "Yes, please."

Her mother looked at her as if to say, " _Honestly?"_

"She offered."

"One," her mother said. "You do not need to have too much before this ball."

"I think that's exactly what I need to do," Dominique countered, though her mother was already on Marie about how one glass was more than enough.

Marie, to her credit, grew a little on Dominique then after telling her mother not to be such a prude as she fetched the wine. "What happened to the Fleur who would drink bottles of wine with me until the sun rose?"

"Yeah, what happened to her?" Dominique asked, causing her mother to shoot her a look. "She sounds fun."

Marie poured Chardonnay for all parties in the room, reassuring her mother that no one would be drunk and to remind her of her roots; how it was normal to have a glass or two back in her salon. It "relaxed" people and made for more lively discussion. Today was supposed to be an enjoyable experience.

"Lively discussion from Dominique means she swears more," Victoire said as she took the wine glass offered to her.

"I don't need wine for that," she said, catching Victoire's eye in the mirror before silently mouthing, "Fuck off." Victoire rolled her eyes.

While Marie set to brushing out Victoire's hair and discussing with her how she wanted it done that evening, her mother had turned to Dominique with a hopeful—albeit, determined—smile. "Would you like to see your dress?"

Dominique took a very large gulp of her wine. So much so that half the glass was now gone.

"It's beautiful, Nic," Victoire said. "Really. It's gorgeous."

Coming from her sister, that wasn't reassuring whatsoever. Was that supposed to be reassuring? She watched as her mother disappeared from the room, only to reappear several moments later with a long garment bag levitating in front of her. She seemed oddly proud of what she was about to pull out of it, and Dominique almost felt bad for her. This probably would not end well, seeing as it never did.

When she was smaller, there would usually be tears and screams. As an adult, she at least knew to hold her tongue when her mother's style attempted to force itself onto her. Unlike Victoire and her polite smile facade, she had never been able to hide her true feelings. There would be less screaming and tears, but her face never lied. Her mother really should be used to this by now.

"Ready?" her mother asked as the zipper on the bag began lowering itself slowly, ready to reveal its contents.

Dominique drank the rest of her wine down in one gulp before she sat up. She then held up her empty glass to request a refill. "I will be. On one condition." It was best for everyone if her mother simply let this glass happen.

Her mother sighed as Marie handed off the bottle to Dominique, who overpoured herself a large glass and justified it to her mother and her judgy face by saying the ball was hours away and it would wear off before then. When she was done, she nodded resolutely. "I'm ready."

"You're ridiculous," Victoire said, though her mother was already pulling her dress out of the now open bag.

Her immediate impression was that it was floor length and a pale blue color that reminded her of a clear summer sky over the beach at their home. It had enough detail around the neckline to make her mother happy, but on the whole was plain enough to keep her happy. She honestly didn't hate it. It could have been so much worse.

"It's nice," she'd said, which made her mother's face perk up in a happy sort of way. She was obviously taking what she could get, but in Dominique terms, 'nice' may as well have been her gushing over how stunningly beautiful it was. Nice was a glowing review.

From nearby, Marie—who was now doing something with her wand to individual pieces of Victoire's hair—began fawning over how, "Gorgeous" and "Perfect!" it would look on her. Apparently, "Fleur always had the best taste!"

"You could do a little better than 'nice,'" Victoire said from under a sea of clips that were currently separating her hair into sections.

"Nice is fine," their mother said, smiling at Dominique. "Victoire's is more of a bronze color that she chose. Also very lovely. I'd offer to show you, but—" She made an obvious face, as if to say she knew she didn't care. It forced Dominique to shrug. Guilty as charged.

"Now," Marie was saying as she began using her wand to curl Victoire's ends, "girls like you must have some handsome dates. Victoire, your mother says you've got a boyfriend you've been with for some time."

"Almost two years," Victoire said, smiling.

"Is Teddy coming tonight?" Dominique asked, attempting to keep the topic on him for as long as humanly possible; she'd already seen the flicker of acknowledgement in her mother's expression at the mere mention of the word dates. "Did he actually manage to get a day off of work?"

"Yes," Victoire said. "He made sure to take the day off ages ago. He worked late last night, so he's probably waking up right about now. He'll be here before the ball."

"Did you two pick out his outfit, too?" Dominique asked. "Make sure he's acceptably dressed?"

Both Victoire and their mother both managed to throw her the exact same admonishing look, which was creepy. While her mother waved her off, Victoire was quick to point out how the hospital often had fancy benefit evenings for which Ted was forced to attend. If he could handle those, he was well prepared for a night in the school's Great Hall.

"Mum only has to pick out clothes for people who have no idea how to dress themselves," she added pointely

"Did she not pick out yours?" Dominique retorted. "And didn't she have to get Louis'?"

"She didn't pick mine out, she came with me because we both enjoy shopping together," Victoire said. "And she only got Louis' because he's here at school."

"And I'm where? Mars?"

"You might as well be."

"Not today, girls," said their mother, her tone silencing and her wine glass already drained. She set it down and suddenly stood to go and observe what Marie was doing to Victoire's hair. There was chatter about how lovely it was coming together and how pretty she would look when it was done. Dominique turned them out and had just started looking around for a magazine or a newspaper to flip through when her mother turned back to face her.

"I assume we'll be meeting your new boyfriend this evening?"

That seemed like a rather sneak attack of a question. Dominique stared back at her, though didn't flinch. "If you must. He will be there."

"I don't think there's going to be a lot of 'meeting' involved," Victoire said, her eyes on Dominique through the mirror. "Something tells me they've already done that."

They stared at each other for a moment, with Victoire smirking and Dominique attempting to figure out exactly—based on that smirk—what she knew. Hogwarts' gossip traveled, so it was entirely possible Victoire already knew it was Jack and was now being purposely vague. But if she knew it was Jack, why wouldn't she have said something?

"Do you actually know?" Dominique asked her, "Or are you taking a guess?"

"It's a very educated guess," she said, still smirking. "We heard he's a very good Quidditch player and if I remember correctly from the last time I saw you, you had recently been caught snogging a particular Quidditch player—"

"That was to save Louis!"

"So, tell me it's not him," Victoire challenged, her eyebrows raised. "Go on. Tell me it's not him."

Dominique said nothing. She attempted to hold her stare and stand her ground, but she quickly broke away in defeat. It immediately made Victoire laugh. "I knew it."

"What is going on?" their mother asked. "You knew what?"

"Oh, this is Nic's story to tell. Plus, I actually want to hear her say it." She looked back at Dominique. "Whit's heard the rumor, as well." She made a slight face. "It forced some conversations."

Dominique cringed at that. One thing she really hadn't thought much about during all of this was Whit. For all intents and purposes, they were friends. Granted, that was mostly through Victoire rather than them actually having connected, but still, they were definitely friendly. She and Jack may have fallen out poorly, but the two of them had always gotten along really well. Just as Jack was a staple in their home, Whit had been as well. It was never easy to hear your former long term relationship had moved on, but to also hear they'd moved onto a friend—Dominique suddenly felt like an arse.

"Yeah," Victoire said, her eyes wide but also tired looking. "She was…shocked. A little upset, but who wouldn't be? It did come out of nowhere. I actually tried to reason with her since I think the two of you make a lot of sense, but she doesn't want to hear that. Why would she?"

"Why can we not say this boy's name?" her mother blurted out, looking back and forth between her daughters as if this conversation had gone on long enough. "Why are we speaking about Whit? Why does she—?" Her face suddenly went blank, as if she'd suddenly connected a series of dots and it was all coming together in that exact instant. "It's Jack."

"Nothing gets by you, Mum," Dominique said, laying it on a bit sarcastically because she felt awkward admitting it outright. When her mother continued to stare, she finally started nodding slowly.

The shock was a lot briefer than Dominique had anticipated; it had changed into something more resembling being pleasantly surprised. A part of her had almost anticipated this since she knew her mother had always loved Jack. She'd had a soft spot for him over the years that Dominique hadn't seen with any of their other friends. She'd always just assumed it was because he was Louis' best friend and Louis was her favorite. Why wouldn't his well-mannered, lovely friend be her favorite as well?

"For how long?" she asked.

"Um, we've been together for almost a month."

"But they were snogging back in December," Victoire said.

She shot her a look. Was every bloody detail necessary? "That, again, was to save Lou—"

"You're aware you don't have to keep saying that now that you're together?"

"And you're aware you don't have to say _anything_ at all?"

Her mother held up a hand to shush them both, clearly not interested to listen to them bicker. At the same time, Marie decided to interject. "Alright, Fleur, but the important question is, do we like this boy? Is he acceptable?"

Victoire laughed at that. "Given Nic's track record..."

Dominique glared at her sister, but her mother—being all too used to her and Victoire's rows—spoke immediately. "He's a very nice boy. We've known him for some time and I've always liked him. Bill likes him. I would have never thought…" She smiled at her. "You always seemed so different. Outside of your interest in Quidditch, that is."

"Well, they do say opposites attract!" Marie said in a breezy sort of way.

"What's Louis have to say about it all?" Victoire asked as the final touches were being done to her hair.

"Doesn't care." She shrugged, watching as Victoire's face immediately looked skeptical. Even her mother seemed to question how true that was until she added, "Says Jack's the best bloke he knows, so why wouldn't he want me with him?"

Marie "awwed" as Victoire said, "That's a surprisingly mature response."

"It is," said their mother as she walked over to give Dominique an affectionate tap of the arm. "And I have to agree with him. He is a good one." She paused to look at her, and Dominqiue could have sworn she was silently telling her to "not fuck it up", but it was fleeting and possibly something she imagined. Her mother was already back to smiling, "I'm also glad to hear it didn't cause waves. I remember when he and Sarah got together—"

"Right," Dominique said, readily acknowledging how she hadn't been so gracious. "Yes, I remember, too."

"You went mental," Victoire laughed. "I can still remember Ted outing them last Christmas and the look on your face—"

"Because they lied and kept it a secret!"

"And you immediately told Louis?"

"It was a completely different situation," she argued. "He and Sarah were already together by the time I found out. They were a couple and had been for awhile—"

"How are he and Sarah?" her mother asked, now going over to help herself to a second glass of wine. "I mean to say, was the fallout bad? Do they still speak?"

Victoire made a tutting noise that Dominique immediately picked up on. Her mother was still under the impression that the tournament and the distance had caused all of their problems, hence their breakup. Victoire was still under the impression that Louis had kissed another girl-which may or may not have been the truth? Either way, the web of lies her brother had weaved around this topic was almost impossible to keep track of.

"They talk sometimes," Dominique said, choosing her words carefully. Her brother's memory of him and Sarah atop the Astronomy Tower started to flood her mind, but she quickly pushed it out. She'd gotten very good at bouncing Louis' unwanted memories out of her head. "But they're not very friendly. He's moved on. Sarah wants nothing to do with him."

"I wouldn't either," mumbled Victoire, whose hair actually looked really nice now that Dominique could see the final product.

"She's not coming tonight," Dominique added.

"Oh no," said her mother, genuinely sounding sad to hear that. "I was hoping to see her. She was always a sweet girl and I was hoping to…" She trailed off as the sound of movement, as if someone else had caught her attention. She'd turned to look, only to immediately smile at something outside the doorway. "I'm sorry! I am in your way. Come in!"

"If I'm early, I can go," came a soft sounding voice that made Dominique immediately sit up a bit. That was Amalie's voice. How long had she been…? Had she been listening to that whole bit about Louis and Sarah?

"You're not," her mother said as Marie brightly greeted Amalie and told her she would take her right after she finished the last few touches on Victoire.

Amalie stood there awkwardly, which she couldn't blame her for. For one, Dominique was staring at her rather attentively, wondering then if she'd finally be able to corner her and ask her some of the questions she had. Two, she was now surrounded by the female members of Louis' family, all of whom had been discussing his relationship with his ex. The ex she had a hand in creating-whether intentionally or not. If Dominique were her, she would probably have regretted walking into the room.

Amalie nodded to everyone in the room as if to say hello; her eyes passing quickly over Dominique as if to purposely place her gaze anywhere else. Their mother began to ask her how she was feeling and how her parents were doing since they'd all met in the hospital; if she was excited about that evening and whether she was enjoying her time at Hogwarts. Amalie answered everything very politely and with a smile; patiently waiting her turn until Victoire finally finished and stood.

Victoire looked perfect and gorgeous, as she always did; everyone gushed and complimented her, as they always did. On the contrary, Dominique managed to give her only a lazy thumbs up as she came to take the seat beside her. Victoire immediately swatted it away.

"Why does Jack put up with you?" she muttered as Marie ushered Amalie over toward the now vacant chair.

"Probably because I'm a good shag," Dominique said at a volume only Victoire could hear, watching as she immediately pulled a face. She truly loved being able to make her do that. It would never get old.

"Does Louis have a date tonight?" asked their mother, now walking over to where they were sitting, "I wrote him to ask, but I can't seem to get a response out of either of you lately."

"Um," Dominique said, instinctively fighting the urge to let her gaze travel to Amalie's reflection in the mirror. She actually had no idea. Louis hadn't mentioned whether he did or not. "Not that he's told me."

'Doesn't he tell you everything?" Victoire asked.

"No," she said. "We have our secrets." Though truthfully-and especially with the memory swap-those secrets had always been few and far between. But they hadn't been talking as much lately, what with her spending all of her time with Jack, while Louis ran around with the Beauxbatons pair. If they wanted to know if Louis had a date, they really should be looking at the girl sitting in Marie's chair right now.

Louis not having a date seemed to shock Marie, who had inhaled sharply. "I find that hard to believe. He's so handsome and clever. And a champion! Who wouldn't want to go with him?"

Amalie's expression didn't budge one way or the other. She was currently staring at the bottles and brushes that sat upon the vanity in front of her.

"I doubt it's a matter of not being able to," said their mother. "He's never had problems with that. But he has just come off of a very long relationship. He may still be dealing with that."

Marie hummed as she began to run her hands through Amalie's long hair. "That can be hard."

"And they still have to see each other every day," her mother continued. "They live together in the same house. She's one of Dominique's best friends, so to be constantly faced with that…"

"Right. Right."

"And they were very much in love and it ended so abruptly. The tournament was simply too much for the two of them to deal with."

"Of course."

Dominique let her head fall to keep herself from busting out with awkward laughter. It was the only way she knew how to handle any of this. Louis would die if he knew this conversation was happening right now in front of Amalie. Dead in the ground. She was legitimately biting her lip to fight the smile that was forcing its way across her face. She chanced a glance at Victoire—who at the very least knew Amalie had a role to play in all of this—and she met Dominique with wide-eyed surprise. That look did it. Dominique immediately lost her battle with the laughter and tried to turn away to hide the fact.

"What is so funny?" her mother asked.

She waved her off, barely being able to breathe for laughing.

"Mum," Victoire said quickly, "let's not discuss Louis' breakup. That's private and we don't really know—"

"You really don't," Dominique managed to squeak. "But yes, he's…" She took a deep breath. "He wouldn't be…He's moved on. I know that much."

"He may tell you that…"

"Mum," Dominique said, her tone more firm. "No one knows Louis better than me. I can read him like a book." She glanced over at Amalie, who was having her hair brushed out. She had been looking back at her in the mirror's reflection, though immediately looked away when they made eye contact. "You have to trust me on this. Let's talk about something else."

Her mother shrugged as if to say she would, though she clearly didn't see what the big deal was. She silently sipped her wine and watched as Marie began taking her wand to Amalie's long hair. Dominique and Victoire exchanged another quick look; despite Victoire not being entirely on the same page, she was close enough that they could share a smile about it.

It was then that his mother turned toward her once more. "If you want to talk about something else, then let us discuss why you were kicked off the Quidditch team."


	18. All Dressed Up

Dominique had gotten her hair done after Amalie, though it hadn't been her choice. Her mother insisted on going last, which meant it was her turn next. She put up a fight, which she lost, and then had to sit there listening to the humming and hawing from everyone about what exactly would look best. It took an additional twenty minutes to combine those ideas into something Dominique would let them do, though it was finally decided to pull half up into some sort of fancy configuration while the rest was left down and curled at the ends.

Marie spent the entire time gushing about how her hair reminded her of Dominique's mother; she droned on about how she would style it back when they were teenagers. Dominique, however, barely listened. She instead stared at herself—rather stoically—in the mirror the entire time while her mother kept commending Marie's talents and reassuring Dominique she looked amazing.

This wasn't even the worst part. An hour earlier, another woman called Elena had arrived. She apparently worked for Marie and was in charge of doing make-up. At the moment, she was working on Amalie in another room, but Dominique now seemed fairly convinced they were trying to induce an anxiety attack out of her.

"It'll be good for you," Victoire told her as the two shared a sofa in the front room, waiting for Amalie to finish up. "She'll be able to hide those dark circles under your eyes and that huge spot on your chin."

"What?" Dominique instinctively rubbed her chin in alarm. "A spot? When did I—?"

Victoire started to laugh, which immediately tipped Dominique off to her taking the piss. She reached her leg out to kick her, though she was just out of reach on the sofa. That only made Victoire laugh harder.

"You panicked," she said. "You were completely afraid you got a last minute spot before the big night. You care more about this than you're letting on."

"I really don't."

"Then why are you acting so nervous and on edge?" Victoire asked. "You've been in a foul mood since you got here."

"Because I hate all of this," she mumbled. "When have you ever known me to enjoy any of this?"

"I'd have assumed you'd come a bit to grips with things in the last few years," Victoire offered. "You've started dressing better. Taking care of yourself. Showering more…"

"Right, I've made some improvements," Dominique countered. "But that doesn't mean I'll ever go 'full Victoire.'"

Victoire raised her eyebrow at her. "I'm not even going to ask what that means, but I'm sure it's your particular brand of savage."

"It actually wasn't," Dominique mumbled, letting the silence fall between them. It was actually welcomed. Her knee was bouncing up and down anxiously and she found herself especially focusing on watching a housefly that had somehow made its way into the carriage. It was oddly fascinating to watch as it tried to escape by barreling into a closed window over and over again. She sympathized with it. .

"Have you and Jack ever had a proper date?" Victoire asked after several minutes. "Or is this the first?"

"We went to that Christmas party together." She paused. "Though that was sort of a forced date."

"So, this is your first proper date," she said. "Look at it this way. It'll be a nice surprise to get all dressed up for each other."

"He fancies me the way I am, thanks."

"Obviously, but it's always nice to see a polished up version of ourselves. Are you not excited to see him all cleaned up and smart looking?"

She didn't answer that. She supposed she was. She remembered how nice he'd looked at the Christmas party and that had only been semi-formal. He probably would look really very handsome tonight.

"I love when Ted dresses up. He looks so handsome and it's a nice change of pace. Still doesn't mean I don't love looking at him every other day, but it's sexy when he actually tries."

Dominique stuck out her tongue. "Don't use the word sexy and Ted in the same sentence. That's like calling Louis sexy."

"No, see, Ted is _not_ my brother," she said matter-of-factly. "So, it's not the same thing. At all." She rolled her eyes. "But seriously, you need to let Elena work on you because those dark circles under your eyes are actually a thing she could help you with."

She began rubbing her eyes absently, as if trying to rub the circles off. "What do you expect? I don't sleep anymore."

"This better not be a sex joke, because I really don't care to hear that you and Jack are up all night—"

"It wasn't," she said lamely. "I don't sleep because I can't. I've got Louis' stupid night issues keeping me from actually sleeping now."

Victoire's face went genuinely sympathetic at hearing that. She was well aware of the sleepless nights Louis had; she'd grown up seeing them first hand. "I can't even imagine. I can't believe any of it, if I'm being honest. And no one can do anything for the two of you?"

She shrugged. "Everyone's claiming that they're 'working hard to fix it,' but…" She looked at the ground. "I'm starting to realize I may have to learn to deal with the damage."

"Have you thought about seeing someone? Trying anxiety potions like the ones Louis takes?"

"Took," Dominique corrected. "He's fine now. Doesn't even dream."

"Wow," Victoire muttered, shaking her head. "You got an awful deal if you have to deal with his nightmares."

"Haven't had any yet," she mumbled. "But things are building day by day. My anxiety has gotten awful—even now, my chest is starting to tighten when I think about getting makeup done. It's been tight all afternoon. I'm constantly dealing with that about so many things. I feel things getting stronger."

"You need to go and talk to a Healer."

"Yeah..." she said, sounding purposely distant. "Longbottom wants me to talk to someone about my spell damage and learn to potentially cope with it. He got me a list of names of Healers he recommends, but I haven't owled any."

"I don't think that's a bad idea. I'm sure Ted could help point you in the right direction, too. Or at least toward the people who can help." She sat forward. "What about Louis? How is he handling things?"

Dominique sighed heavily. She truly did not know if she had the energy to discuss Louis and his love spell and all the bullshit that came along with it right now. Of course Victoire should know; her parents should know. But if she told them about it now—before the ball and before they saw Louis shortly—they would fret. Her mother, especially, would not be able to not address it given that it was more spell damage that she'd been kept in the dark about. She would want to confront McGonagall about it. She'd fret over Louis, who would have no idea what she was talking about, and the whole night would turn into a mess. That was not the tone Dominique wanted for the evening.

"He's got his own issues," she said, purposely being vague.

"You both should talk to someone," Victoire said. "There are so many skilled people who deal with the after effects of spell damage."

"Yeah," she said, not wanting to talk about this anymore because she was tired—both literally and figuratively—of discussing these new problems. Tired of talking about it, tired of the suggestions, and tired of living with it.

It was then that Elena, with her short, purple hair, appeared then from an adjoining room. She smiled at both girls. "Who's next?"

Victoire immediately stood. "I'll go. Better to get in before my sister. She's only going to exhaust you."

Dominique shrugged, not denying it, as Victoire headed toward the room. She stepped around Amalie as she exited, prompting Victoire to tell her that she looked really lovely. Amalie acknowledged her with a polite smile, and had been turning to walk in the opposite direction when her eyes met Dominique's on the sofa. For a split second, Dominique sensed she had been planning on pretending she hadn't noticed her.

"You look nice," Dominique called out to her, noticing that it forced her to stop. It was the first time she'd seen her free from Louis and on her own in ages.

Amalie again smiled a little. "Thank you. Your hair turned out really lovely."

She shrugged as she stood up. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second."

Amalie pointed over her shoulder and seemed to be thinking on her feet for a reason to excuse herself. As soon as Dominique walked around the sofa to meet her where she stood, she seemed to realize that Dominique's polite ask had been more cursory and less an actual question.

"Have you seen Louis today?"

Amalie shook her head. "I've been here all day. They brought us food, so I've had no reason to go up to the castle."

Dominique nodded. "I'm surprised he didn't come by. Seems that's all he does lately. You two have gotten close."

"He hangs out with Javi just as much as he does me," Amalie said automatically. "Probably more. They even have a standing 'walk around the lake' that they do nearly every day with Aurick. It's where Javi's been all morning—though I don't know if Louis went with him. Javi walks around it multiple times a day. It's where he can smoke."

Dominique considered that, realizing that it would offer Javier the privacy he required. She now also wondered if Louis was still smoking.

"He is," Amalie said.

"Right. Well, I was just going to ask if you two had plans for the evening?"

She shook her head. "We're both going to the ball, if that's what you're asking. But so are you."

"Not together?"

"As in, on a date?" She shook her head again, her face blank. "No."

Dominique hummed. That was actually surprising. Did her brother even have a date? He'd talked about being keen on her, so she just assumed he would have asked her.

"He did," Amalie said. "I said no."

"No?"

"No," she repeated. "It's…" She looked away. "Obviously complicated. I didn't want to make it worse. It's easier to just go with Javier and make it a friendly evening. No pressure or intentions."

She didn't want to make it worse? Was she serious? Hanging around him and allowing his spell to thrive was making it bloody, fucking worse.

"I know what you're thinking," Amalie said all of the sudden. "You know that Louis' spell is only helped so much by his potion. You know I have a little crush on him and enjoy having him around now that he's not a creep; now that he's fun and decent to talk to—"

"I mean, he is," Dominique agreed. "But, what I don't understand is why you admit to having a crush on him when you know—and I know you know—that his interest in you isn't real."

Amalie's expression turned uncomfortable. She didn't seem to like having this conversation. "What is 'real' anyway? The conversations he and I have are real. The way we make each other laugh is real. The time we spend hanging out is real."

"It may be literally happening, but he only fancies you because he's fucked in the head. What are you hoping? That he'll come around and actually fall for you? That if you put in enough time, it's going to happen?"

Amalie looked a little taken aback at that. "What? No. What I'm saying is that I can't help how he makes me feel and that I like having him around now. I have no real intentions. I understand it can't actually happen."

That sounded like a load of bollocks if she'd ever heard one. She could only hope Amalie was reading her mind right now so that she could tell her off telepathically: Fuck off. You're leading him on in the hopes that his actual interest in you starts matching his spell induced interest.

Amalie's eyebrows suddenly furrowed as they stared at each other, but she said nothing.

"If you have no intentions, then why are you telling him you two actually kissed in that cave? Why are you making that up? Because I can see in his memories that he was close to death there and there's no way that he would have been trying to kiss anyone."

"Louis can't remember that night," she said matter-of-factly. "I know he can't, which means you can't."

"But I can feel how terrible he felt and I know my brother well enough to know he's not looking to pull girls when he's feeling like that. Shit, he curls up into a ball and whines when he has a head cold!"

"I told him that because he couldn't remember why he and his ex split up," she said. "He seems so lost and confused because he has so little memories of it. He has these empty gaps in his mind—I'm sure you can see them—where the love spell took over. It's caused him to forget things he did while under the worst parts of it."

Dominique stared at her. She could see the gaps and had since day one. That was where that hazy cloud always came into play, flushing out all other thoughts.

"And one day his ex walked by, and I immediately could read a world of anger coming off of her—at him and at me. He sensed it, too, and told me as much of the story as he could remember. But he couldn't remember exactly what he did to make them break up, just that he'd felt compelled to do it and she hates him now. You and I know why he did, but to him it's a lost memory."

"But I still don't see why—"

"He told me," she continued, ignoring her, "that she'd apparently screamed at him for having kissed me in that cave. He can't remember doing that because we didn't, but you could tell he was questioning it because he wants answers. So," she shrugged, "I told him it was true. I was trying to give him some peace of mind and something to wrap his head around."

"But it's not true," she said bluntly. "Now he thinks he cheated on her. Now he thinks his feelings for you are even more real because if he's kissing you in caves as he's dying, you two must actually have something."

"I was just trying to help," Amalie offered. "You can't see his head right now, but it's a mess. He needs answers and help, not more confusion."

"Lying to him isn't an answer!" Dominique spat. "It's doing more damage!"

"Are you not lying to him, too?" she countered. "Are you not telling him his spell potion is helping him with things it has no effect on?"

"But so are you! You're telling him the same lie!"

"Then look in the mirror and realize you're doing the same things I am! If it's so bad, why are you doing it?"

Dominique stared at her. That was...different. That was...She was...trying to help him.

"And so am I," Amalie said bluntly.

Dominique's eyes narrowed. Louis didn't need her help. She was a nobody in the grand scheme of things. She needed to step away and let the people who truly cared about him handle this. They didn't need her dog-piling on top of an already fucked up situation.

"We're doing the same things," Amalie said in a final sort of way. "Only you're the person he trusts most in the world and I'm some girl he's been tricked into having feelings for and probably won't speak to after all of this is over. Which one of us is doing him more harm?"

With that, Amalie turned without another word and walked back to her quarters, leaving Dominique, for once in her life, truly feeling speechless.

Dominique eventually wandered into the adjoining room to sit silently with her sister, which wasn't something she would have usually done. Even Victoire found it—especially the silence—strange. She kept trying to goad her into responding to her, even picking at her usual little tics, but Dominique had nothing to say. She even sat there without much complaint as Elena did her makeup. She was simply too preoccupied trying to convince herself that her lie was justified while everyone else's were not.

Once all the hairs were styled, makeup applied, dresses on, and early evening had settled upon Hogwarts, Dominique walked back up to the castle with her mother and sister feeling completely exposed. She realized people were going to see her like this. Despite everyone's reassurance that she looked amazing, she didn't feel it. She felt like a fish out of water. Her chest was already clenching uncomfortably; she was already breathing deeply.

As soon as they'd entered into the Entrance Hall, they were immediately met by a well-dressed Professor Flitwick. After a few polite hellos and compliments on how nice everyone looked, he instructed them to all please gather in the Chamber of Reception, which Dominique didn't think she had entered since the night she was Sorted. It was annexed just off of the Entrance Hall, and upon entering, they were immediately greeted with a room full of people who had all arrived before them.

Zara's family was there and easy to pick out; both of her parents were as beautiful as she was, and she and her brother had always looked very similar. Zara wasn't there, though she had to be due any moment. The Durmstrang pair were also standing nearby with their Headmaster, looking about as excited as they could given that they were attending their third ball of the year. Madame Maxime was also present, looking as though she'd recently arrived. She waved and embraced Dominique's mother—both speaking in rapid French—and greeting each other as old friends.

Dominique's gaze lastly fell on the only other two people in the room she recognized; the ones who were most familiar to her. Her father and Ted had been standing to the side talking, turning bright smiles onto everyone once they were reunited. Her father looked very dapper and put together in robes that Dominique immediately knew were new; he'd come forward to greet his family one by one with hugs and compliments.

Ted, who was hanging back to let the family reunion occur, also looked quite nice and surprisingly less tired than usual. He was grinning at Victoire and he silently mouthed "You look beautiful" to her as he watched her greet her father. As soon as she'd finished, she'd gone immediately over to embrace him.

"And look at you," said her father as Dominique turned to see him beside her. "Nicki, you look absolutely beautiful."

She did her best to begrudge him a smile.

"But you always do," he continued before he turned that grin on his wife. "When did they all grow up?"

"I have no idea," she said, sounding sad. "But somewhere I blinked and they did."

Ted and Victoire had walked back over, hand-in-hand, after their private moment. Ted smiled first at their mother and told her how lovely she looked before then turning to Dominique. He didn't say anything at first—he actually didn't seem to know what to say—but after a quick glance at Victoire he'd finally managed a, "Nic, I don't even recognize you."

"I wouldn't either."

"You do look quite lovely," he offered in earnest, "Honestly."

Another forced smile, which caused Victoire to rub Ted's arm and say, "Don't mind her. She doesn't like it when people tell her that." She looked up at him. "Do remember when we were younger, and Louis and I would have to come up with insults because she'd go around kicking anyone who complimented her?"

"I hate this story," Dominique muttered.

"There will be no kicking tonight," said their mother in an almost cautionary way, which made Dominique want to protest that she wasn't eight years-old and she didn't do that anymore. But before she could, her mother was already adding. "You look beautiful, so be prepared to hear that."

Several minutes of standing around and chatting passed before Zara suddenly appeared, looking stunning in bright red and accompanied by Reggie Avery as her date. She'd walked straight across the room with the confidence of someone who was well aware that she was the center of attention and loving every minute of it. She'd been heading straight to her family, smiling and greeting everyone she passed, including Victoire with a quick hug. She stopped to politely greet all of their family—with her parents introducing themselves and Victoire asking if she and Reggie knew Ted. When Zara turned to Dominique as if to introduce herself, her face suddenly went blank.

"Woah," she said, blinking. "I…" She turned to Reggie, who acknowledged it was a surprise to see. "Dominique, you…are unrecognizable."

"I'm starting to think that's a good thing," she said, now wondering if she could use this to her advantage and play invisible all night.

"It's a good look," she said reassuringly. "Really." She looked over to her own family. "But you'll have to excuse me. Have a wonderful evening." She was gone after that, reunited with her family and embracing each and every one of them. At that very same moment, Louis had also entered with Flitwick on his tail; the latter of whom seemingly happy that everyone was now present and accounted for.

"There's Louis," said their mother, beaming proudly as he quickly stopped to say hello to the Durmstrang group before making his way toward them. "And the robes fit perfectly!"

They did fit perfectly. Everything about him looked immaculately put together and picture perfect. The way his robes fit, the way his hair was combed, the way he carried himself. Even his smile seemed to be that much more charming. She had to give him credit—the kid knew how to enter a room and suck the attention straight up.

"So handsome!" their mother gushed as he hugged her first. "The robes worked out well?"

"Seems so," he said as his mother began to randomly fret and straighten out the front of them. He wriggled away with a very pointed, "Mum, stop. They're fine."

"I know," she said, still unable to stop, despite Louis' protests, until their father gave her a reassuring nudge and a look. "You just look so grown up."

"Had to happen eventually," Louis mumbled, very much over the unnecessary attention. Dominique could hear her mother asking him if he had a date, to which he'd said no in a very hurried and dismissive sort of way. "I didn't want one. I'm going stag tonight."

Their mother seemed more than surprised to hear that and clearly had follow up questions, but she didn't get to ask them since Louis had purposely turned away to turn his attention onto Victoire. She smiled at him before the two immediately began trading compliments about who looked nicer. That was a game exclusive to the two of them; something Dominique had never—would never—partake in. He and Ted exchanged happy hellos, with Louis thanking him for coming since he knew how busy he was. Ted claimed he wouldn't miss it.

"Looking good, Lou," said their father. "I was starting to wonder where you were."

"He probably got lost combing his hair," Dominique muttered.

Louis turned toward her. She almost felt as if he'd been saving her for last on purpose. He stared at her for a few seconds longer than she would have liked before he slowly started to smile.

"Don't you dare say it," she said.

It was a full smile now. "I was just going to say you look terrible."

"Louis!" snapped their mother, though Victoire laughed and Dominique found herself smirking. Old habits die hard.

"I take it you're adding this," Louis gestured to her outfit, "to the growing list of things that you blame me for?"

"That list is starting to get really long, Lou."

His smile slipped as he said, "It is, isn't it?" with a strange sort of seriousness to his tone. He forced a smile onto his face as he glanced around the room, commenting that he really should go and say hello to Zara and the others. He wasn't exactly being subtle with his constant glances over toward the Beauxbatons' corner of the room, but as he turned to leave, he mentioned to Dominique, "Your boy is outside in the Entrance Hall with everyone else. He was looking for you." He looked at their parents before back at her. "Are we allowed to talk about it? Do they know?"

Dominique had opened her mouth to answer that she hadn't told everyone yet, but her father was already asking, "Oh, _is_ he? Does that mean we get to meet him?"

She sighed. Her mother's eyes had brightened and she was now smiling, but she'd surprisingly said nothing. Even Victoire, who was as nosy as they came, did nothing more than grin. It was Louis who, as he walked off, said, "You have fun with that."

"I want to meet this boy who Ginny tells me you seem quite taken with," her father said with a smile. He looked at his wife, who did nothing more than pat his arm affectionately. "It's so rare Nicki's taken with much of anything."

Taken seemed like such a dumb word; she immediately wanted him to stop saying it. She also wanted everyone to stop looking at her like they were—with their dumb grins and expectant eyes. Why did this have to be such a to-do?

She exhaled. "You don't have to meet him," she said as the heaviness in her chest tightened that much more. "Because it's Jack, alright? Jack is my boyfriend. We're together. It's not a secret. It's him, which is why everyone is being so weird about it because no one in this family is capable of not acting strange about people's relationships changing into something different."

She was met with several sets of surprised eyes, though her father's were the ones she focused on. He looked rather blank; she wasn't sure if he was reacting to the news or the bluntness of her declaration.

"Well," he finally said. "That...actually isn't surprising."

"It's not?"

"It's not," he said, though he seemed perplexed by his own words. "Don't ask me why it's not. But it's not." He gestured toward the exit. "But you should go and get him and bring him back here. We can say hello."

She stared at him, now feeling rather unsure as to what was happening. "You're not going to be weird, are you?"

Her mother was shaking her head, though her father's face remained purposely blank. "Why would I be weird?"

She turned to Ted. "Didn't he and my uncle corner you in Diagon Alley to have a little chat after he'd heard you and Vic were together?"

Ted had pulled a slight face, though her father was already laughing. "Oh, that was me and George having a laugh."

Victoire rolled her eyes while Ted mumbled, "Funny." It caused Dominique to look back at her father as if her point had been made. "See? Weird. Don't be weird."

"I won't be weird."

Her expression remained weary, but she knew she had to get this over with. The longer she waited, the more this would build. Not to mention, a small group of people had entered the room with cameras—most likely from the Prophet, if she had to guess—and it looked as if they were planning on taking some photographs. Things were starting to kick off.

She chose that moment to exit and walk back into the Entrance Hall, where a large crowd had gathered outside of the Great Hall to wait for the doors to open. A sea of dress robes and multi-colored fancy outfits filled the room, and the atmosphere was charged with palpable excitement. People were antsy and laughing; chatting with dates and friends alike. She recognized faces—most of whom were wearing more make-up or had their hair done differently than she was used to—but she didn't immediately see the one person she was looking for. She hadn't exactly planned on making the rounds to find him.

"Weasley," said someone, and when she turned she saw Michael Ellison and Ellibit Collins standing together, looking rather matchy, and smiling back at her. They also seemed to be doubting what they were staring at, though Dominique wasn't about to feign a polite smile for any of them. It wasn't until Ellibit added, "You look amazing," that she suddenly had a small change of heart. There was no need to be unnecessarily rude.

"Thank you," she muttered, her smile pinched. "You do, too. Your dress is very...nice."

Ellibit looked amused, but happily took the compliment. Michael mentioned that Jack had been hoping to find her, and when Dominique asked if he knew where he was, both of them pointed somewhere to their left and mentioned they'd seen him near the wall a few minutes ago. She thanked them both,

She tried her best to blend in, but there were a handful of people she couldn't avoid—most of them outright staring at her and some actually feeling the need to comment on her appearance. She doled out forced smiles and hasty hellos to all of them, moving quickly so as not to dwell and feel even more awkward. As she reached the wall, the sounds of the doors to the Great Hall opening caused a small cheer from the crowd, almost all of whom were now moving forward to get inside.

Music had started drifting out from the open doors, and Dominique managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like a completely unfamiliar looking Great Hall. This was nothing like Valentine's Day, where they hung a few streamers and ribbons; rather, someone had gone completely all out for a floral themed explosion of color. It was hard to tell exactly what it looked like from where she stood, but people's excited reactions could be heard as they entered.

Time was ticking now, and she was hoping Jack hadn't joined the crowd to enter. He was aware that she had to make an entrance with her family, but they had said they would try to see each other beforehand. She could understand if he assumed she got tied up, but she was still holding out hope that he decided to hang back another minute or so. She glanced around, happy that everyone was too distracted by entering to pay her any attention, but didn't see him anywhere.

She sighed and walked in a little further, deciding to give it another minute before she'd go back— though another ten seconds was all it actually took once the bulk of the crowd had moved to enter. He was standing not even ten feet away, looking as if he'd spotted her before she'd spotted him. He was already smiling at her.

She smiled back, forgetting for a moment that she was awkwardly dressed and made-up to look like a bloody princess, and instead focused on how happy she was to see him. He looked stupidly handsome—the kind of handsome that made her temporarily forget things she really ought to know. Not that any of that mattered because she was too preoccupied with just wanting to look at him. She'd found a new love for dress robes if that's what he looked like in them, and she legitimately couldn't stop smiling right now if she tried. It was physically impossible.

He'd come to meet her, though given the way he was looking her up and down, she suddenly became acutely aware of how she looked once again. She looked down at herself before awkwardly shifting. "Yeah…so this happened."

"Wow," he said softly. "I don't think I've ever...I mean, I don't even—."

"You don't have to say it."

"No, I want to say it," he said matter-of-factly. "You're gorgeous. People are going to wonder why you're hanging around with me."

"No one's going to wonder because they've all met me and they've all met you," she said. "In fact, I'm fairly certain they're all already wondering if you're the one with actual spell damage."

"No one thinks that," he said as he stepped forward to put his hands around her waist and pull her closer. "Seriously, you look incredible."

She found herself blushing and letting her forehead thump dully into his chest to hide it. She didn't hate it when he said it. Whenever everyone else said, it was forced smiles and meaningless 'thank yous', but when he said it, she felt happiness swell up inside of her.

She managed a sincere, "Thank you," before finally pulling her head up to look him in the eye. She tugged on the front of his robe. "You look pretty incredible, yourself."

He grinned.

"Now, are you ready to see my parents? They're keen to talk to you."

His grin faltered. "Now?"

She nodded as she reached down to take his hand. "Had to happen sometime tonight."

"Do they know that we're...?"

"They do," she said with an affirmative nod, pulling him gently back toward the Chamber of Reception, but noticing he didn't budge.

"What did they say?"

"They said, 'bring him back here so we can talk to him,'" she said, throwing him a funny look. "Which is what I'm doing."

"But how did they...?"

She turned back toward him. "You're not nervous, are you?"

"A bit, yeah," he said. "This changes my entire relationship with them. They'll be looking at me differently."

She laughed. "I'm sure Ted can offer you a crash course if you're worried, but in the meantime just…" She shrugged and smiled. "Don't be weird."

She had resolutely held his hand as they walked back into the chamber, not that anyone was paying attention at the moment. The photographers from the Prophet were currently busy taking photograph after photograph of the champions—both altogether, in pairs, and separately—and everyone else was observing the spectacle as it happened. Both her mother and Mr. Zabini had produced cameras and were taking several snapshots of their children getting their photographs taken.

Dominique threw one last reassuring look at Jack as they approached her parents. He returned it before she tapped her father on the shoulder to get his attention away from the photos; he turned around, letting a slow smile appear as he did so.

"Jack," he said, greeting him with his hand outstretched. "Good to see you."

"Hey, Bill," Jack said with a nervous energy about him, shaking her father's hand.

Her mother had stopped snapping pictures and greeted Jack as well, carrying on with an incredibly pleasant nature about her. She'd launched into how sweet she found all of this and how much things had clearly changed over the years. Her father, meanwhile, stood there watching.

"Stop," Dominique said to him as her mother and Jack spoke. "This is what I was talking about. This is weird."

"What is?"

"You're staring."

"I'm watching him talk to your mother," he said with a small laugh. "It's not meant to be weird. Believe it or not, I like Jack. I always have."

She eyed him for a minute, not quite sure what exactly he was playing at, but ultimately decided he was being—at least mostly—sincere. "Well. Good." She shrugged. "Seems everyone does, then. It's as if I've finally made a good choice."

"You make lots of good choices, sweetheart." He reached over to put his arm around her. "And even the bad choices help you figure out how to better make the good ones." He smiled at her. "I hope you know that he's the lucky one."

She found herself blushing for the second time that evening, though she had no time to play it off since Jack and her mother had finished chatting. They all found themselves watching as the photography session nearby seemed to be wrapping up. From beside her, Jack had again taken her hand again. She sensed that he seemed to feel a little out of place back here.

Victoire had turned away from watching the display then, her eyes going from Dominique, to Jack, then to their hands. She smiled and peeled herself away from a distracted Ted in order to greet them. Her smile was entirely on Jack.

"Hey, stud," she said before she hugged him. "It's been a while."

Jack immediately smirked. "Wow. You haven't said that to me in—"

"Quite some time," she agreed. "I've decided to bring it back. Figured we can have the same rapport, different girl."

"Very different girl," he said, squeezing Dominique's hand.

"Absolutely," Victoire said, a warmth in her eyes that Dominique wasn't entirely familiar with. Victoire quickly shook it off and glanced behind her to see where Ted was. He was already meandering over to join them; greeting Jack and also mentioning that it had been awhile since they'd last seen each other.

At the same time, the person who'd been directing the photographer around had walked over to both of her parents and asked if they could get a few photos of the family—-specifically some of Louis and his mother together. While her parents were nodding and agreeing, Dominique inwardly groaned. Terrific. Now there would be photographic evidence.

Louis had come to rejoin them, a smile on his face that she could tell was forced. He was clearly done taking photos, but he was pushing on. When he realized they were looking for a few shots of him and their mother, he sighed rather heavily, but went to stand where he was told.

"And now the whole family," said the man in charge once they'd gotten their fill of the mother/son shots. He was beckoning for the girls to step over. "If you would, please?"

Dominique threw Jack a look and gripped his hand harder, as if staying tethered to him somehow meant she wouldn't have to do any of this. Of course that wasn't the case. Victoire was already walking over. They were waiting on her now.

"Teddy," her mother was saying, now handing her camera to him, "Could you…?"

"I can," he said, taking the camera as he was asked while the photographer now busied herself with arranging their family around for the best picture. She set Louis in the center, Victoire and Dominique beside him, and their parents on the ends. She seemed happy with that and stood back to ready her shot.

"Dominique, please smile," said her mother, even though Dominique knew for a fact she couldn't see her.

"I am," Dominique muttered, now putting on a cheesy, over-the-top grin. Ted took a moment to click a photo.

She immediately felt her father tap her on the back, as if to say, "Stop it" and she begrudgingly let her face fall into a far more normal looking smile. That seemed to please the photographer, who then began snapping away and saying, "Lovely!" She must have taken ten shots before finally saying she was satisfied.

"Are we fucking done?" Louis mumbled under his breath, reaching up to rub his mouth. "If I have to take one more bloody fucking photograph..."

"What they haven't told you yet is that this is the third task," Dominique joked. "You smile and take photographs until you die. The one that manages to stay alive the longest wins the whole thing."

His expression said he wouldn't doubt that, just as the photographer stepped forward once more to ask if she could get a few of Louis with his sisters. Louis momentarily looked aggravated, but his fake smile was back in an instant as he glanced from Victoire—who'd readily agreed—to Dominique—who shared his aggravation.

"It'll make mum happy," Victoire said, as they all noticed their mother already retrieving her camera from Ted and getting ready to take photos herself. "Be nice."

"Do you see what I'm wearing?" Dominique said. "I've been plenty nice. No one can say I haven't been nice."

Louis positioned himself between both of his sisters, him roughly a head taller than both of them, and draped his arms around their shoulders. Immediately, everyone seemed very happy with the shot. Her father had smiled fondly while their mother actually made a positively delighted sort of noise—probably because she hadn't had the three of them so well-dressed and put together since they were small children. Even Ted and Jack were smiling, as if this was a particularly nice moment. It made Dominique find a genuine smile somewhere in her.

The photographer had immediately set to snapping, taking what felt like a hundred photos with the flash exploding each time to the point where she was sure she was now partially blind. Even once she'd finally finished, Victoire immediately reminded them that they needed to give mum one as well, and they still had to stand there smiling while their mother took at least twenty more. As much as Dominique hated this, she didn't hate how happy her mother currently looked as she took their photograph.

"We're done!" Louis finally snapped once the photographer had moved onto Zara and her family. He was already walking straight up to Jack, muttering. "I need a break and a fucking drink."

"I can't help you with that right now," Jack whispered back, "but I know Tommy can once things get underway."

"Then I will be finding Tommy," he said, patting Jack on the back and gesturing back toward Dominique. "Sorry about your luck, but your date looks a wreck."

"I don't care that she's your sister. I will punch you in your face."

Louis laughed loudly, and Dominique immediately sensed that was the first genuine expression of emotion he'd had since walking in here. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him seemed off; fake even. And while she used to her brother putting on the act of the dahsing charmer, something about this was different. Everything from his smile in the photographs to the way he was looking at people seemed far less effortless and far more forced than usual.

"You alright?" she asked him.

He threw her a funny look. "Yes?"

"You're sure?"

'Yes," he reiterated, still looking at her funny. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't answer that, watching now as their mother appeared once more with her camera ready to start snapping candid shots of all of them. Louis quickly reminded her that she had all night to take photos, she didn't have to take them all this minute, but that didn't seem to faze her. She immediately asked for Jack and Louis to stand closer so that she could get one the two of them.

"For the love of..." Louis grumbled, but did as he was told; both smiling nicely with Jack before then posing goofy and making themselves laugh. Dominique knew that somewhere in her house, there were photographs of the two of them as eleven-year-olds probably making very similar goofy faces; now it had come full circle as their mother snapped the eighteen-year-old version.

Her mother was now looking directly at her, as if to insinuate that it was her turn. Her turn to...what?

"You and Jack," she said, waving the camera at her. "Go."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," said her mother, gesturing for her to move along. Dominique felt stupid talking all these pictures, especially now that they were dragging Jack into it. When she turned to apologetically look at him, he didn't seem to care in the least. He actually was smiling as if ready to do this. Maybe she was the weird one.

She walked over and stood beside him. He put his arm around her back and she did the same; her face feeling rather pink. Everyone was watching her—her parents, her brother, her sister, Ted. She was still coming to terms with publicly displaying this relationship, and all eyes on her right now was making her a little anxious. She just wanted people to stop staring at her.

Flitwick and McGonagall had entered the room then, already greeting the Headmaster of Durmstrang and doling out polite hellos. McGonagall stopped to visit with her family and wish them all a wonderful evening. She was currently telling their parents that she'd come to collect the other Headmasters to join her in the Great Hall, and that Professor Flitwick would have all of the details for the entrance ceremony. She did a bit of a double take when she looked at Dominique, but she said nothing before continuing on to visit with Madame Maxime.

Professor Flitwick had appeared straight on McGonagall's tail, seemingly keen to get this evening kicked off.

"We'll be lining everyone up to make our entrance now," he said, smiling at everyone in her party. "We'll be having the Zabinis enter first. Then," he gestured to her parents, "the two of you and the girls right behind. After that, there will be a brief pause to announce the champions. Everyone will walk straight down the center of the room to the dance floor, which is where everyone else will be waiting for you. We have a spot for the Zabinis on the right, and for you on the left."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Dominique interjected. "Are you saying that everyone is just going to be standing there watching us enter?"

He nodded. "Yes, Miss Weasley. They're waiting for the champions arrival to signify the start of the ball. It's then that they will open the evening with the first dance before everyone else will be asked to join."

Dominique took a slow breath. She knew she had to make an entrance with her family, but she had assumed it would be more of a quick walk inside where she could mostly hide behind her father or sister. She didn't realize most of the school would all be standing there waiting at attention. The entire place was going to be staring at her. Her chest clenched and her throat suddenly felt dry.

"You alright?" asked Jack, who'd lifted both of their hands up to show her how tightly she was holding his. "Your grip's gotten really tight."

She started breathing in and out and nodded. She could handle this.

"Nic," he said, sounding concerned. "Are you ok?"

She didn't answer; at the same time, Flitwick had said, "Anyone not making an entrance should make their way into the Great Hall now." He'd nodded to Ted and Jack before then moving along to the Zabinis.

"That means us," Ted said, swatting at Jack and gesturing for them to leave. He turned back to Victoire to quickly kiss her and say he'd see her in a few minutes. Dominique glanced at Jack in a panicky manner. On top of not wanting to do this, she also did not want him to go.

"I think I need some Calming Draught," she said suddenly.

"Now?" he asked, looking alarmed. "Wait, right now—?"

She was already nodding. This was starting to feel just as it was before the Slytherin match.

"Here, sit," Jack said, already scanning the room for a chair while also waving Victoire over. Once she noticed, she immediately looked concerned, calling for both of her parents.

"Nic, what's wrong?" asked her father, reaching out to almost brace her. Jack quickly said that he thought she might be having an anxiety attack, but was already gone the next moment after saying something about the hospital wing. Her entire family was surrounding her then, which actually seemed to make things worse.

Louis had the good sense to tell everyone to back up, as someone from somewhere supplied her with a chair. As she sat there, taking each breath slowly and staving off the worst of the effects, Jack had returned in record time. He was already holding it out for her to drink before she had time to figure out how he had gotten down and back to the hospital wing so quickly. How much time had passed?

She drank it quickly, and as before the potion took effect almost immediately. Her chest unclenched and her body relaxed; her breathing returned to normal. She blinked a few times, feeling rather embarrassed by the spectacle, but that was really all she felt. Everything else about her was completely relaxed.

"Miss Weasley, are you alright?" asked Flitwick, who'd reappeared then to inspect the situation. Outside of her family, it almost looked as if everyone else in the room had barely noticed. Only then did a few heads turn to see if they'd missed something.

She nodded, taking a large breath before forcing a smile.

"Does that happen often?" asked her mother, her face stoney.

"More often than I'd like," she said, looking over at Jack and mustering a weak smile to thank him. In front of her, the rest of her family seemed clearly affected. None of them were strangers to the sight of an anxiety attack, although it had probably been ages since they'd witnessed one. After Louis was diagnosed with his, he'd gotten on his daily potions routine and they'd mostly disappeared.

Madam Pomfrey had appeared then, having apparently followed Jack back here after seeing him. She, too, looked concerned as she gave Dominique a quick once over. "Miss Weasley, perhaps it's time we start discussing seeing someone?"

She did nothing more than sigh loudly, knowing that had to be the next course of action. Things were getting worse. Both of her parents' expressions were lost in a world of concern, while Louis stood there looking at her in a way she couldn't even figure out. He seemed concerned, but also angry. There was a lot to process in his face.

Flitwick cleared his throat. "Miss Weasley, perhaps you should sit out the—"

Dominique's gaze shot toward him. Now that the potion was running through her veins, she was fine. She was more than fine, she was calm. They'd caught it before it had gotten bad; nothing had even happened. She didn't want to do it, but she was going to. She wasn't a quitter.

"No, I'm fine," she said, standing up. "Nothing even happened. I'm fine."

"Dominique…" her mother said.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "I can walk across a room. Did you not see me take the potion?" She looked around. "I feel great."

Looks were exchanged and doubt crossed many of their expressions, but Dominique chose to ignore all of them. She instead locked eyes with Jack, who said nothing and smiled at her. He reached out and gave her an encouraging rub on her back.

Flitwick said that it was her choice, but that they as a group needed to be moving because they needed to start the entrance ceremony. He excused himself then, and Dominique was forced once more to tell her family that she was perfectly fine and not to worry about her. She knew she was reminding her parents of their experiences with Louis and how bad those used to be, but he'd been eight. She was eighteen. They could trust her at her word.

"I have to go," Jack said, his tone quiet as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, as if he were warming her up from the cold. It was oddly comforting. "I'll find you after everything."

"I'm fine," she said to him, knowing he wasn't dumb enough to ask question, but also knowing he was thinking it. "I swear."

"I know, but still..." He reached out his first to her. "Just to be safe. Don't fuck it up."

She smiled and fist bumped him back. "Don't fuck it up."


	19. The Champions' Ball

Professor Flitwick led them out into the now empty Entrance Hall, where the doors to the Great Hall were currently shut. The faint sounds of chatter and music still carried out into the echoey Entrance Hall as Flitwick proceeded to position everyone. The Zabinis had taken their spot at the front of the queue, with both of Zara's parents standing arm in arm while her brother stood casually behind them. Dominique's parents stood next—her mother straightening out the front of her father's dress robes and smiling up at him in a casual way. She turned to throw Dominique a reassuring, but concerned smile. She needed to stop doing that. It only reminded her that everyone thought something was wrong with her.

Victoire had stood behind their mother while Dominique took the spot behind their father. While she was feeling rather cool about the situation now, she still wasn't interested in any of the attention. She was hoping her father's height would hide her, despite knowing that it probably wouldn't. She watched Flitwick put the Beauxbatons duo behind her, and the Durmstrang duo behind them. Louis and Zara were, of course, to be last.

Amalie, who was standing behind Dominique, chose to turn around and speak to the Durmstrang pair, though Javier kept his eyes straight ahead and threw her a lazy smile and a wave. He looked bored. She hadn't seen him much lately, what with being invested in her own life and him keeping busy with apparently walking around the lake with her brother and the Durmstrang kid. While she liked him a lot as a person, she'd also come to realize that it was hard to be around him; he reminded her too much of everything bad in her life—all of the changes, her brother's changes, DiSilva. She wondered if he'd noticed or cared, or whether he was reading her thoughts now. If he was, he wasn't giving off any indication of that being the case. She instead returned his lazy smile with one of his own before offering a quick, "Good luck out there."

She then felt her sister's eyes on her and turned to see that she was staring at her.

"I'm fine, Vic."

"I'm sure you are," she said with a slow nod. "Calming Draught will do that. I'm just surprised you're nervous, is all."

"Surprised I got anxious when I heard everyone will be looking at me? When have I ever come off as someone who enjoys having people look at me?"

She threw her a funny look. "Oh, I don't know. How about the fact that you're a Seeker who is used to playing in front of the entire school? Or when you're telling someone off in front a full common room?"

Dominique could see how she would think that. It was a fair point. But as Flitwick now signaled to someone inside the Great Hall to start, she could only think to respond with, "Things change."

She suddenly didn't know how to stand or what to do with her arms when she entered. Did she let them hang there? Fold them across her chest? What was everyone else doing? Behind her, they all seemed to be doing the same thing—the male in each pair was holding his arm out to escort the female. That's what her parents were doing, as well. Shit, that didn't help her.

"What do you do with your arms?" she whispered to her sister, noticing now that the doors were starting to creek as if they were being opened.

"What do you mean?" she whispered back. "You don't do anything."

"I let them hang there? That seems odd."

"Then put them behind your back," she said, the doors now pulling themselves open now. "Honestly, have you never had to walk into a room before?"

"Not like this."

"Just stand up straight."

"I am."

"No, you're slouching."

"You sound like mum..."

Her mother turned around at that, seemingly confused as to what she'd heard, but quickly brushed it off and refocused on what was happening. She looked positively regal—shoulders back, head held high—as if she'd done this a hundred times and was a professional at making grand entrances. Dominique wished she had an ounce of her mother's confidence. She forced herself to stand up straighter.

The doors opened and the music, a swelling instrumental piece, suddenly became much louder as she finally got a proper look at the inside of the Great Hall. Someone had clearly had springtime in mind when decorating; brightly colored floral tones covered the room. There were flowers everywhere—even hanging from the ceiling—and it looked as if they'd simply imported a lush garden inside and let it overgrown the room. The large house tables were all gone, replaced by countless smaller, round tables.

There was a stage where a small orchestral group was currently playing the music that filled the air, and a large dance floor directly in the center of the room that was surrounded by all of the guests in attendance. Everyone in the room's eyes were now on what was happening at this entrance. The Calming Draught worked wonders, because she didn't even flinch.

The music built to a specific part. Flitwick, who'd been standing just beside the entrance, was now nodding at the Zabinis to proceed. Without any hesitation, Zara's father escorted her mother into the room looking perfectly statuesque, as if they too were familiar with entering a room with purpose. Her brother followed behind them, and Dominique noticed he was carrying his hands behind his back.

She liked that. She was going to do that, too.

The music began to swell again roughly thirty seconds after the initial time, and Flitwick was now nodding at her parents to go. It was then that Dominique realized she wasn't entirely sure when she was supposed to go. She knew she went with her parents, but if it were up to her she would be on their heels as a means of blending in. She probably had to wait a few seconds to be proper, but how many? Why had no one told her?

Victoire started walking, which Dominique took as her cue to do the same. She put her arms behind her back and stood up straighter, watching her father's feet several paces in front of her so as to not walk too fast and crash into him. From beside her, Victoire suddenly said, "Look up, would you?"

That seemed as good a tip as any, seeing as she was now entirely relying on her sister to lead her through this and get her to the other side in one piece. The room really did look beautiful, and it wasn't until she was roughly a quarter of the way that the faces and people started to appear. Photographers were taking more photos; several of the professors were standing near the back, all smiles and happy expressions.

Her peers started to appear the further they walked—lots of younger faces first, then gradually the older ones. She could make out Eatins and Flyer standing not far from James, then Giggleswick and some of the Ravenclaws just beyond them. She immediately looked away and again stared at her father's back.

She noticed the floor change from stone to a wood surface. She'd made it to the dance floor. They just needed to cross it.

Beside her, Victoire was waving to some people and looking around as if she were happy to be reunited with many of these faces. She caught Dominique's eyes and grinned as if to say, " _Smile. You're almost done."_ So, that's what she did—she smiled, though she didn't direct it to anyone specifically. Now that it was almost over, it all felt rather funny.

The Zabinis had reached the opposite end of the dance floor and peeled off to a vacant spot on the right as they'd been instructed to. Her family finally reached their spot on the left, which caused Dominique to exhale heavily. It was done now and it hadn't been so bad. She could return to being a regular guest instead of someone who had to enter in an over-the-top fashion.

The music segued into another song as the brass section of the band suddenly belted out a loud tune of announcement. Everyone's eyes were back on the doors as the Beauxbatons' pair suddenly made their grand entrance; they looked like the seasoned professionals they probably were at this point. Thirty seconds passed before the Durmstrang duo followed, and both sets of champions eventually walked across the dance floor arm and arm and headed to a specific spot, as if this had been planned and rehearsed. A very long minute passed before the trumpets kicked up in an alarmingly loud way, which actually gave Dominique a start. Victoire, too, was making a face, as if to say that was unnecessarily loud.

Dominique turned to the doors, where Louis and Zara now stood, both looking a mixture of ready, but also awkward at being the focus of everyone's attention. As they walked out arm in arm, people started clapping; some cheering. Louis definitely seemed a little uneasy at the attention. He'd plastered a tight smile across his face and was keeping his gaze straight ahead. Zara, however, was glowing with excitement; looking far more in her element and she smiled and waved a little at friends that she passed. It almost seemed as if Zara was escorting him and not the other way around.

Her mother practically cooed from beside them as she clutched their father—who was proudly beaming. Victoire was smiling and looking a little emotional, which Dominique had to raise an eyebrow at. When her sister caught her staring, she waved her off. "I can't help it. He looks so grown and in his element. It makes me oddly proud."

Dominique turned to look back at Louis. "You think so? I think he looks awkward."

"Please, he doesn't even know how to be awkward."

While she understood where Victoire was coming from, she had to wonder if they were both looking at the same person at the moment. She knew her brother, and the tightness of his expression was that of a person who didn't want to be doing this. As far as she was concerned, he wasn't even doing a great job faking interest.

She didn't have much time to dwell, since the music slowly changed into a tune that was far more fit to dance to, and—again, as if they'd rehearsed it—all three pairs of champions turned to each other and began dancing to kick off the evening.

"He and Zara make a really attractive couple," Victoire said. "Not that I'm insinuating anything, mind you. I'm purely basing that on looks."

"Well, you're looking at the wrong champion," said Dominique.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she muttered, scanning the nearby faces for Jack, but not seeing him among the crowd.

They had to watch nearly the entire song play out until McGonagall, accompanied by the Headmaster of Durmstrang, were now taking to the dance floor together in a very official sort of way. They seemed to be signaling to everyone else to please join them and let the dancing begin. Immediately, couples all around the room—including her parents—began to follow suit.

Victoire had turned to smile at something over Dominique's shoulder, now sidestepping her to get to it. When she turned, she saw that Ted had maneuvered his way through the crowd to find them. As soon as he was within arm's length, Victoire was asking him if he wanted to dance.

Dominique knew Ted well enough to know that when his eyes did that twitch of a motion, the answer was that, no, he didn't want to. However, his obvious need to make Victoire happy seemed to trump his lack of interest. Her sister—noticing it as well—quickly looked back and said, "He hates dancing, but he promised."

"So very, very sweet of you, Teddy," Dominique said dryly, smirking at the pair.

"The things I do for this one," he said, though he was grinning as Victoire was already tugging on him to move toward the dance floor. Dominique had wanted to throw him a sarcastic, "Have fun!" but was distracted then by hands on her waist that caused her to spin around. She didn't expect it to be anyone else but Jack, but she really was still getting used to someone touching her in any sort of affectionate way.

"You feeling better?" he asked, his hands still on her.

"The potion has done its job," she said, smiling up at him. "If it weren't for all of this—" she gestured to her outfit and hair, "I'd say I almost feel normal. Now, I'm just counting down the minutes until I can take it all off."

"So am I." He grinned. "But, until then…" He gestured to the dance floor. "What do you say?"

The original song had ended then, though another number immediately picked up where the last had left off. Most everyone that was on the dance floor stayed out—with the exception of the champions who were now splitting away from their designated partners and seeking out their preferred dates. Dominique could just make out Zara heading straight over to hug Reggie; Louis, who'd left the dance floor entirely, was now casually looking around.

She smiled at Jack and nodded, though made a point to lead him down the dance floor and away from where her parents were. She didn't want to be Louis' sister or someone's daughter right now. She wanted to be as everyone else in the room was—a random face in the crowd who could dance with someone they wanted to touch without anyone caring. She wanted the perceived idea of this being a private moment, even if there were a hundred other people in the room.

"Did I look stupid walking in?" she asked once they were close, his hands on her waist and hers around his neck.

He shook his head. "No. You couldn't look stupid right now if you tried."

"I felt ridiculous."

He shrugged. "This whole thing is ridiculous if you think about it, but it has nothing to do with you." He pulled her in close and kissed her, but it had been quick and fleeting. She'd been anticipating more of a real kiss, not something so hasty. She stared at him, as if to ask what that was, but all he could do was say, "Your parents are right over there."

"They're not even paying attention.'

"Let me ease into my new normal around them," he said.

"Is that also why your hands are safely positioned on my waist as if you're dancing with your grandmother?" she asked, gesturing down to where his hands were chastely placed in a very innocent spot. "I can step back a bit and give you some space, if you'd like?" She did just that, making an over the top point to put as much room as possible between them. "Look, we can fit a Quidditch arena in between us."

He reached out and pulled her right back, making a face as if to tell her none of this was necessary. He even wrapped his arms more comfortably around her waist. "You've gotten a lot more comfortable since the last time we did this."

"I've gotten comfortable with you," she said. "I'm still rubbish at the dancing part."

"You're doing fine," he said, taking a step back and grabbing her hand at the same time. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but in a single fluid movement he raised both of their arms above her head and gently spun her. She'd actually managed to follow through without a hitch, and once they were once again face to face, they were both laughing as if surprised that had actually worked.

"You told me at Christmas you weren't very good at this," she said.

"I'm not," he said as they stood close enough that there was no free space between them. "That was my one and only move."

"And you...what? Save it for special occasions?"

"I save it for when I'm having a good time," he said. "At that Christmas party I was nervous and trying to not say something stupid. I was hoping to be cool and that you'd see me as something more than that guy you play Quidditch with."

"Well, you've never been cool," she joked, but then quickly added. "But looking back, you honestly must have been oblivious. I was already mad about you, then. I see now that it was obvious."

"It wasn't obvious," he said. "And wouldn't call keeping my distance because you kept running back to your ex being oblivious. What was I supposed to do with that?"

"I only ran back to him because I was scared about how much I fancied you. I told you that."

"That makes as much sense now as it did then."

She smiled and shrugged. She'd never claimed to make much sense as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She got a slightly longer kiss this time, though she was fairly certain he was still checking for her parents out of the corner of his eye.

It was a lovely moment—worth all the dressing up and ceremony if in the end she was awarded even a few minutes where it felt as if it were just the two of them. It had been a long journey for her to get here—both with Jack and in general—and for the first time in a long time she was happy to just breathe it all in and not care about anything else. Perhaps the Calming Draught kept her head clearer, but she truly did feel at peace right now. Tonight, she wasn't going to care anymore; she was going to do.

"Watch the hands," said a voice, and when Jack pulled back to see who it was, Louis was standing there staring at them.

"Don't you have anyone else to go and bother?" Dominique asked.

"No," he said rather coldly, his eyes never leaving her. "So, I just had a fascinating conversation with Professor Holt."

He was playing at something, but she genuinely had no idea what. What did she have to do with Professor Holt? She didn't even take Potions anymore. She hadn't talked to the Potions Master in ages.

"Lou," Jack said, obviously sensing something in Louis' tone as well. "What's—?"

He held up his hand to silence Jack, and still had yet to take his eyes off of Dominique. He'd actually stepped closer to her. "Here I am, trying to avoid everyone—all these stupid Ministry people trying to chat me up about shit I don't fucking care about, like working at bloody Ministry—"

Dominique stared at him, actually finding herself rather surprised to hear that. He was avoiding them? But he'd always been keen to talk to those types? And what did he mean he didn't care about working at the Ministry? That had always been his goal. She wasn't sure what he was on about.

"Then Holt corners me. Wants to inform me that there was an accident in his laboratory today and our potion—you know the one _we_ take everyday—was contaminated. He'd already had a single vial ready for tomorrow, but he was out of some crucial ingredient and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get more straight away. He's apparently working 'very hard' to rectify this."

His eyes never flickered off of her as he stepped even closer. "So, I tell him that it's fine. It's not life or death, and I'm convinced it's not doing shit for me anyway. Give it to my sister. I'd rather she have it because she actually feels it's helping her."

Dominique inhaled slowly. She suddenly sensed exactly where this was going.

"' _Your sister_?" Louis continued, doing a weak impression of Holt. "' _Your sister doesn't take this. Why would I give this to her?_ '"

Shit.

"Imagine my surprise," he said, "when he tells me you've never taken it. He's never given you a single drop. Only me. I'm the only one taking it. I'm the only one who ever did."

"Lou…" she began, knowing that this didn't look great, but needing him to also know how important it was for him to not stop.

"You lied to me," he said, looking straight at her. "You said you were taking it. You kept insisting I keep taking it because 'it's helping,' but you're full of shit. You haven't taken it since we've gotten home."

She didn't even know what to say. He was staring daggers at her.

"That's fucked, Nic," he said, finally taking a step back. "I assumed we were in this fucked up experiment together, but you quit and didn't even tell me."

"No, Louis, it has nothing to do with—"

"You know what? It's fine," he said, apparently not at all interested in hearing her feeble attempt to excuse this away. "We're on the same page now. I told Holt not to bother. I'm done, too. It's clear it's not done a bloody thing for either of us." He threw her a hard look before turning to walk off. "Maybe next time, don't leave me in the dark?"

"Louis," she called after him, but what could she actually say? He had every reason to be angry with her and she couldn't even fix it because the truth would just make him more angry. Worse still was that he had every intention of quitting the potion and thus, the love spell would probably return with a vengeance.

She looked at Jack, guilt and concern all over her features.

"Give him time. He'll get over it," Jack offered. "You know he will. We'll keep an eye on him; make sure he stays away from Amalie. We can work this out."

That would be easier said than done, and she was now more than happy that the Calming Draught was still working it's way though her or else she would probably be far more anxious. She took the opportunity then to search the room for Amalie, who was near the dance floor and talking with the Durmstrang duo. If the spell was going to be back warping Louis' head, Amalie would again begin to find Louis and his excessive affection repugnant; especially once he became weird and clingy. Her annoying little crush to nowhere would probably be stomped into dust.

Still, she needed to be warned. With a quick nod to Jack, she crossed over to where Amalie was chatting and smiling, though visibly less so once she saw Dominique approaching. By the time she was standing directly in front of her, her face had gone blank.

"He's going to stop taking the potion," she said bluntly, before explaining to her what Louis had just informed her. "So, unless you can work some magic on him to convince him to take it again—because he won't listen to me anymore—you should know so you can be prepared."

Amalie suddenly looked a bit panicked. She started searching around for someone, mumbling, "I need to…" before immediately leaving to do whatever it was she needed to do.

When Dominique returned to where she'd left Jack, the first words out of his mouth were, "You should probably tell Longbottom or McGonagall."

She nodded, knowing that was the necessary next step. They were both currently busy laughing with guests and friends, which made her realize that it could wait until the morning. Louis was still fine right now, and there was no reason to disturb everyone's evening. She wondered if that was the Calming Draught talking, but the important part was that Amalie knew. Louis could be managed as long as they were prepared for it. This wasn't a crisis—just something worth mentioning.

It took her a bit—at least a half an hour of dancing with Jack—to let her mood improve to the point it had been before. Once it did, the rest of the evening turned into a bit of a whirlwind of dancing, talking, and constantly feeling on the go. Natalie had practically tackled her to tell her how amazing she looked; how she absolutely green with envy over how pretty her dress was. Eleanor had gushed that she looked fabulous, and most of her Ravenclaw friends like Lira and Marlowe had also been ready to compliment her transformation. Even Professor Longbottom, who had stopped her to let her know he'd arranged a meeting with a specialized Healer for her here at school, had seemed rather impressed by the effort she was putting in.

When Dominique had run into Erin, she was quick to point out how surprised she was to see her like this, given that she could still remember how hesitant Dominique had been to even wear lipstick over the summer. Then there was Kenley and her friends, who were nothing but lovely and sweet—which immediately made Dominique feel bad for being such a bitch to her for so long when she'd been nothing but cool to her this year.

They'd found Tommy along with Kenley, who—between himself and his friends—had somehow snuck in multiple flasks that several people were now taking turns passing around. Dominique didn't take any considering she knew she shouldn't mix it with the Calming Draught. Plus, she felt good without it; even if her classmates continued to comment on how different and unrecognizable she looked. She took it all in stride and smiled. Her mantra of the evening was to let everything roll off her back.

"You really do look like a different person," Tommy had said to her out in the flower garden—a place that someone had magically created just outside of the Entrance Hall for the occasion. He was swigging from his flask and looking her up and down. "And don't get me wrong, you look nice, but…" He shrugged. "It's weird. You look weird."

"Tom," Kenley said from beside him. "You can stop after the 'you look nice' part. Just stop talking."

"I'm just being honest!"

Dominique had to laugh. Oddly enough, she genuinely could appreciate that comment because that was exactly how she felt. She glanced over at Jack—who was shaking his head while staring Tommy down—and found herself laughing harder. The evening was proving to be cool and clear and rather perfect. She never would have anticipated having this much fun.

"Let's go back inside," she said, reaching over and tugging on the front of Jack's robes, but releasing them quickly to walk on ahead of him. She'd barely gotten a few steps away before she distinctly heard a thumping sound and someone saying, "Ow! What the fuck?!" and someone else mumbling, "You're an idiot." When she turned back around, she was just in time to see Tommy rubbing the side of his head as Jack strolled up beside her.

The Great Hall was still crowded and people were scattered everywhere now—dancing, snacking, chatting off to the side in pairs and groups. She saw her parents talking with Professor Longbottom and his wife on the opposite side of the room; her sister and Ted were in a conversation with some random people. She walked directly past Javier and Aurick—who were chatting up a group of sixth-years—as she led Jack out to the dance floor and let herself be spun around and held, laughing and smiling, for a good five or six songs. When a slower song finally came on, she used it as a chance to calm down and let herself lean her head onto Jack's shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, which caused her to look up.

"I'm having more fun than I thought I would."

"Me too," he said with his sweet smile. "I love seeing you smile this much."

"It's what happens when I stop taking myself so seriously," she offered, realizing that it probably had more to do with the potion she'd taken than anything she'd actually done. She suddenly was reminded of the last time she'd taken it—after the Slytherin match—where she'd also felt intensely calm and clear headed. So much so, that she and Jack had finally managed to figure themselves out and actually agreed to be together. Would she have done that had she not taken the potion? Would she be having as good a time tonight if she hadn't? Were the right potions really making that much of a difference in her life?

As the song wound down and she and Jack decided to take a break; he led her by the hand toward where the snacks were. They found Louis over there, looking bored, but not particularly angry. He made no attempt to speak to her—he was actually openly ignoring her— but he was quite normal with Jack. She overheard him telling him that the evening had been a bust, and that he was about to call it a night. He'd been hoping to get in a dance with Amalie, but she'd apparently vanished somewhere.

Dominique left the two of them to talk, walking over to the nearby punch table to help herself to something to drink. A ladle had been charmed to full up a glass for her, and she took it as she began to take notice of the spread of snacks and puddings that covered the table top. Dominique found she had apparently worked up quite the appetite as she began helping herself to sausages rather quickly; before she noticed both of her parents appear on the opposite side of the table. She awkwardly smiled at them with her mouth full.

"Smaller bites, my love," said her mother, in a way only she could. "But we wanted to come and say goodnight."

"Yur weaving?" she asked before she swallowed.

They both nodded, though it was her father who said, "It's getting late, but I'm happy to see you having fun." He smiled over to where Jack and Louis were talking.

"We'll be back for the third task," her mother said as she hugged Dominique. "Thank you for tonight. It meant a lot to me."

Dominique shrugged, not entirely sure what she'd meant since it should be Louis she was thanking, but her mother seemed rather sure as she kissed her on both cheeks.

"You did well, kid," her father said as he kissed her on the top of the head. "I mean that." He gestured over toward where Louis was, indicating that they were going to speak to him.

She suddenly had a pang of guilt strike her; that she really should tell them the truth about Louis and the love spell and how he was planning on stopping his potions, but she didn't want to come off as overreacting and make her parents unnecessarily worry. They'd been through so much lately, and this ultimately wasn't that big of a deal. After all, Amalie had managed to handle it for over a month at Beauxbatons. Javier had made jokes about it. Dominique simply had to focus her energies now on getting Louis willing to take that potion again.

Her parents said goodbye to the boys, though lingered around with Louis as Jack excused himself to come and join her. She smiled at him as he approached, watching as he plucked a sausage off of her plate and ate it.

"Your parents have been cool tonight," he said. "After some of the stuff you told me they put Vic and Ted through, I almost feel as if they've been turning a blind eye to us."

"I guess between Teddy and Vic and Louis and Sarah, they've gotten broken in," Dominique offered, shrugging as she placed a large piece of a stuffed pepper into her mouth. At the same time, the music stopped and the band musicians suddenly vanished behind a curtain that had randomly appeared. Everyone seemed confused as to what was happening and whether or not the evening was over early. That was until Professor McGonagall suddenly took to the stage to announce a very special treat that she felt everyone would enjoy.

Dominique was slowly chewing on her pepper, her eyes—like everyone else's—on McGonagall as she suddenly announced, "We're very fortunate to have these very special guests with us this evening. Please welcome, the Nymph Chasers!"

She swallowed her pepper practically whole and nearly choked, all while turning to a completely shocked looking Jack. The curtain had peeled back once more to reveal a five person band, who's lead singer—which Dominique knew entirely too much about thanks to years of being forced to listen to anecdotes of—suddenly called out, "Good evening, Hogwarts!"

People all over the dance floor looked positively stunned. Some had started screaming while others immediately rushed to the stage for a better spot to watch, already jumping up and down in excitement as the band launched into one of their more famous songs. Even from outside in the rose garden, people were now pouring back in to see if what they'd heard was actually true. The Nymph Chasers were actually in the bloody Great Hall.

"Holy shit..." said Jack.

Dominique had already started moving forward to get a better look. She wasn't even much of a fan—she was casual at best—but after her brother and Sarah's obsession with them for years, she couldn't help but know their entire catalog backwards and forward. She started searching for where she'd last seen Louis, and sure enough he was now standing there looking as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Louis!" she yelled out in an attempt to get his attention, though she had to do it a few times seeing as he was completely lost in the moment. When she and Jack finally reached him, Jack shook him by the shoulders; he turned toward the both of them and did nothing more than gape. She yelled, "It's really them!"

He still said nothing, but he had started to grin like a bloody idiot as he suddenly began walking toward the stage and the crowd that had now formed around the stage. Dominique laughed as he did, finding now that Jack had joined her and was also laughing out of sheer disbelief. This didn't seem real. They were witnessing their own private Nymph Chasers show, and she had just been about to whisper something to Jack about how she would have never seen this coming when Louis—quite suddenly—turned back around and practically tripped over himself as he ran directly at them.

"You need to go and get Sarah," he said urgently to them. "Now. Go get her now. She cannot miss this."

"Oh, shit," Dominique said, looking over at Jack, who was already looking over toward the exit. He was absolutely right. She would die if she found out her favorite band was literally downstairs; she would never forgive herself if she missed this.

"I'll go," said Jack, though Dominique argued that she would as they both now dashed toward the exit. "I'm faster."

"I'm fast," she argued as they reached the stairs.

"You are, but I do run a lot," Jack said, managing to stay several paces ahead of her. "And I'm not wearing a dress and—"

"Ok, clearly we're both going, so we may as well stop," she said as they rounded the first set of stairs and headed toward the second. She had to admit, in the dress and the shoes, it was much more difficult to keep up with him as he barreled up flight after flight, but she wasn't that far behind once they reached the portrait hole and shouted the password to make it swing open.

The common room was oddly loud considering almost everyone over third-year was downstairs, but there was music blaring and kids were having a grand time simulating their own dance-like party around the room. Dominique barely had time to question it before she heard someone scream out, "Nic, you look amazing!"

She and Jack both found the source sitting in a nearby chair. Sarah was standing now to meet them, having been sitting with Fiona and Rosie and a few of their friends. She had a wide smile on her face, though that quickly turned into something far more startled looking once Dominique and Jack had rushed up to her.

"You need to go downstairs! Now!"

"Why—?"

"The Nymph Chasers just came out! They're performing in the Great Hall right now!'

Sarah looked as if thunder had struck her where she stood. Her eyes had gotten as wide as saucers and she actually looked as if some had smacked her across the face. "They're...what? You're serious? They're downstairs right now?"

"Yes!" she and Jack both shouted back at her.

Sarah immediately looked down at what she was wearing—leggings and a jumper—before now looking panicked. "I can't wear this! They won't let me in. I don't have anything…!"

Dominique was already pushing her toward the stairs to the girls dormitory. "Put on the nicest thing you own, don't worry about the rest. Go! Now!"

She'd known Sarah for a long time, but she'd never seen her change so quickly in her life as she returned back down the stairs less than three minutes later in one of the dresses Dominique remembered her offering at the Christmas party. It may not have been as formal as what everyone else was wearing, but it would do.

"It's all I've got," she said as she rushed past Dominique and pulled her ponytail down and attempted to straighten out of hair. "I don't even care."

"It's fine," Dominique reassured her as Jack was now leading the way back down the stairs. "If anything, your tits look great."

Sarah laughed as they all rushed as quickly back down as they could, Dominique finding herself starting to sweat as they finally returned to the Entrance Hall and the sounds of their song "Times of the Ages" drifted out of the Great Hall. As soon as Sarah heard it, she started running. Dominique lost track of her within seconds of entering; she was already off blending into the crowd.

She took a deep breath before she smiled. The majority of the room was now dancing and jumping around to the small concert, but she was happy to observe it from the back as she took a moment to catch her breath. Several pieces of her hair had fallen during all of that running, but she did nothing more than tuck what she could behind her ears.

She knew this song well, it was one of Louis' favorites and she'd often hear it pouring out of his room as he played it on repeat. It was all about enjoying the moments with your person since you never knew what tomorrow brought, and it was oddly appropriate given her mood right now. She glanced over at Jack, who—sweaty brow and all—was watching the show and bopping his head along to the song. It may have been a bit of a battle, but she could not be any happier that he was her person.

She nudged him. "Did you want to get closer?"

He shook his head, though when he looked over at her, he added, "Wait, hold on. Yeah, I do." He then pulled her over and proceeded to stand behind and wrap his arms around her.

She looked up at him. "Well, I meant to the band."

"They're not my type."

She laughed, which made him do the same before they stared right into each other and he suddenly kissed her like he meant it. This was the kiss she'd been waiting for all night. It was the sort of kiss where one of two things were now going to happen: either a professor was going to come and scold them for being inappropriate, or they would end up skipping the rest of this evening entirely and putting on their own show.


	20. In the Stands

The following day, Dominique flipped through her Astronomy book as she sat in the stands of the Quidditch arena; an afternoon breeze blew her hair into her face and forced her to put it up into a messy bum. She'd been alternating between studying and watching Gryffindor's practice down below—she wasn't allowed on the pitch due to her suspension—as they put the final pieces together for the Quidditch Cup match the following day. They'd come a long way and looked solid—save for a few sloppy mistakes out of the Chasers that needed to be addressed.

She glanced back down at her book. N.E.W.T.s were around the corner, and she'd recently received her exam schedule. Her Astronomy written exam would take place first thing on Monday morning, though her practical exam wouldn't be until the full moon Wednesday night. She'd also have to sit for both parts of her Charms exam on Wednesday, Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday, Transfiguration the following Monday, and Ancient Runes on Tuesday. It gave her very little time to focus on anything else at the moment—not that anyone else was.

If she were being honest, she'd never felt more prepared in her life. The texts she'd poured over and the notes she'd been taking all made perfect sense to her now. She was passing each and every revision with flying colors; even most of her professors had stopped to comment about how much improvement they'd seen in her work lately. Professor Ivanson had scheduled a mock practical exam days earlier and had looked rather baffled at how she'd managed to transform every object he'd presented her into exactly what he'd requested—including turning her arms into eagle wings. Partial animal transformations were known to be incredibly skilled.

"Whatever you've been doing, Miss Weasley, keep at it," Ivanson had said, claiming that if he had been her exam proctor, she would have received an O that day.

She'd also gone to find Louis that morning, hoping both to apologize for not telling him that she had "stopped" taking the potion, but also to check in on him since he'd actually stopped taking it. She'd found him in his room, both he and Flynn looking dreadful and hungover; both swearing they weren't getting out of bed all day. Flynn, especially, looked worse for the wear. Over breakfast, Dominique had heard from Eleanor that Natalie had broken up with him in the middle of the ball. It had apparently been a bit of a spectacle.

Louis didn't even seem to remember that he was angry with her—that or he was too hungover to care. She could only hope that in such a shit state, he really would stay in bed all day and avoid any unnecessary run-ins. It was the best case scenario for everyone.

And while she was happy Louis didn't seem as angry with her, her thoughts quickly turned back to concern once she'd asked if she could see his Ancient Runes revision. She'd been hoping to compare it to hers while she went out to watch Gryffindor practice.

"I didn't do it," Louis muttered, his face in his pillow.

"Did you forget?"

"No, I just don't want to do it. I don't care."

She pulled a face. "You probably should. Tate said it's almost guaranteed that most of it will show up on the written exam."

"Good for it," he muttered, flipping over onto his back. "But I have no intention of sitting the exam, so I don't care."

She stared at him. What did he mean he wasn't sitting the exam? He only had to sit two subjects—Runes and Arthimancy. He'd told her not long ago that he'd spent enough time studying them over the years, he may as well finish them. When did that change?

"I don't want to take them," he said bluntly, after she'd asked him what that meant. "Fuck it. Who needs the stress? I'm already dealing with enough due to the tournament. Why add more?"

"But you've worked really hard on Runes and Arithmancy. You said—"

He laughed, though immediately seemed to regret it as his expression suddenly looked a little nauseated. He took a minute to collect himself before adding, "No, see, I've never had to work hard. That's the point. Now I do." He picked himself up just enough to look at her. "Do you know how much studying I need to do to get ready for N.E.W.T.s?"

She made an obvious face. "As much as the rest of us are doing. And we're all doing far more than two subjects."

He let his head plop back down on his pillow, as if blowing off her response. "There's no point. I'll take the N.E.W.T.s I was awarded, and the ones I got last year. It's the easy way."

"But, you'll only have ten N.E.W.T.s. That's...nothing."

He laughed, as if that was a stupid thing to say. And truthfully, for most people, it was. Ten N.E.W.T.s was an amazing achievement. It was what any hardworking person who'd spent seven years focused on their magical education would have loved to come away with. Her sister had gotten ten. Teddy had gotten ten. Sarah dreamed of getting ten. It was difficult to get more than ten unless you were a complete overachiever, but that's exactly what Louis was. He had been on track to get fourteen at the start of the year, so for him to give up and settle on ten seemed strange.

"Ten is considered a success," he reminded her.

"Not for you," she said. "I could potentially now get ten."

"Good for you," he said. "Well done."

Now it was her turn to look as if that was a stupid thing to say. "You and I are not supposed to have the same amount of N.E.W.T.s."

He made a face as if to acknowledge that, but it didn't seem to bother him. "Look, it's not a big deal. Ten is respectable and it allows me to relax the next few weeks and focus on the tournament while the rest of you go mental. I'd rather be done. Who cares?"

Who cares? Had he actually said "who cares?" Louis Weasley cares, that's who. Between his lack of interest in taking his exams and his off-hand comments about not caring about working for the Ministry the night before, she was starting to notice a very concerning pattern.

A noise from below near the pitch caused her to look up from the book she'd been barely reading and see Jack was breaking away from practice to climb the stairs toward her.

"I don't think you're allowed to talk to me during practice," she joked once he was within earshot. It was technically true, but she knew no one was going to enforce that rule. Giggleswick might if he were here.

He didn't seem bothered as he approached and sat down beside her. "I'm not worried about it. If anyone asks, I'll pull out something about I can't bear to be apart from you for even a second," he joked, making her smile as he pointed back down toward where the rest of the team was taking a break. "How'd we look?"

"Rory needs to push harder and fly faster."

"I know. I've been riding him. But the harder I go, the worse he gets. I've been trying to lay off."

"Lay off tomorrow, after the match. Right now he needs to know he's got to get it together." She paused and looked back down. "Eatins seems slower than usual."

"He's got a cold coming on. He's going to see Pomfrey right after."

"Also, James needs to realize that Giggleswick will shadow him, so those showy tricks he's pulling won't work. He fooled him once, but I can promise you he knows better now. He's coming for blood."

"I'll talk to him. Or, actually, I'll have him talk to you."

"I'll track him down in the common room later," she said, glancing over at him. He was staring down at the team, his mind clearly elsewhere. With exams, pressure to win, pressure to perform well for his own benefit, this was common for him lately—physically present, but mentally in ten different places. She reached over and gave him an affection rub on his back.

"Longbottom caught me before practice," he said, still watching the team. "Asked if I'd come have a sit down with him sometime after exams."

"About that stuff my aunt sent you?"

"No." He shook his head. "Though, that reminds me that I have to write to her and thank her because that one bloke has been really helpful answering my questions." He looked over at her. "He wants my input as to who I think should be captain next year."

She snapped her book shut and set it aside. "What are you going to tell him?"

He'd taken a very heavy breath as if he was struggling with an answer to that, despite Dominique feeling it couldn't have been more obvious. Had it been her decision, it would be open and shut, but it wasn't. It was his. And she already sensed where his conflict came from.

"I think people assume I'm picking Tommy since he's like a little brother to me. An annoying, obnoxious little brother, but I've all but raised that kid on this pitch and taught him everything I know. He's grown from mediocre to really decent." He sighed. "But he pisses people off and makes stupid decisions."

"That is very true."

He was staring down at the pitch again. "And then Eatins is another option, but he's meek when it comes to people. He takes direction well and he's great on a broom, but he doesn't scream 'leader.' I can tell he wouldn't want the responsibility."

"Also true."

"And then I guess there's Kenley…"

Dominique inhaled sharply. "While I'll admit she's grown on me, let's not push it."

He laughed a little as he took his eyes off the team and finally looked at her. " I already know you're going to say it should be Potter."

"He's done everything you've asked of him from day one with little to no complaint." She looked down at the pitch, where her cousin was telling some animated story that involved lots of wild hand gestures. "He even switched bloody positions when he didn't have to. Shit, he's still switching positions when he shouldn't have to. We'd have completely fallen apart this year had it not been for him."

"And he's done all of it well. Really well. I'm not arguing that." He looked back at her. "He's got decent ideas for strategy. He's not afraid to put them out there. But there are three more senior players. He's only been on the team a year."

"Being senior doesn't mean anything," she said. "In fact, if you ask me, handing the title to the next most senior person can cause more damage than good. If you give it to Tommy, he'll be captain for a year. Then if he follows the same rules, he's handing it off to Eatins for a year. The team is constantly changing hands. Giving it to someone who still has three more years of playing time lets him build something."

"I know." He sighed again before falling into a brief lull. "But also, there's the fact that I'd be handing things over to a kid who already has everything on account of his family."

"In this case, he'd have earned it."

"And it doesn't help I'm dating you, which will make people think I'm playing favorites with the first family of the wizarding world—"

"Don't call us that," she muttered. "And don't worry about that. You can blame Longbottom. Everyone knows he's close with the Potters, so they'll think it's him playing favorites."

He seemed to consider that for a long moment; long enough that the two of them both sat rather silently watching the rest of the team scuttle around down below before he finally said, "I wonder how much of a struggle this was for Durrin when it was between us."

She laughed humorlessly. "It wasn't."

"I bet it was."

"I know it wasn't," she countered. "He told me himself. You were always the obvious choice. I was the hothead who pissed everyone off and got suspended. You were the good guy who everyone respected and could always be counted on. Made it seem as if he didn't even think about it."

"He told you that?"

"Not only did he tell me that, he thought I was daft for thinking I was even considered. And honestly, he wasn't wrong. I would have been a shit captain, but I was the last one to realize it. And while Tommy may be hurt at first, he'll figure it out, too. It's about what's best for Gryffindor, not making people happy."

From the entrance to the stands nearby, the odd sight of Sarah and Natalie appeared. That was rather strange since those two never came out to the arena these days—whether alone or together—unless it were for a match. They'd stop visiting practices long ago; once all the fit boys they used to gawk and giggle at had gone. They looked directly at her and Jack, and Natalie pointed at them for good measure. It seemed they'd come here looking for them.

Jack waved at them rather lazily, though he was now standing as the sounds of Tommy and Eatins yelling for him to hurry up carried up toward them. Tommy added, "You do remember we have the bloody Quidditch Cup tomorrow? Snog on your own time!"

Jack threw Dominique a look. "He's making my decision easy."

She smiled as Sarah and Natalie approached; both looking tired, perhaps working the last bits of their own hangovers out of their system, but smiling politely as they asked Jack whether practice was over. He told them he was just headed back to it before asking the pair of them what brought them out there. It was Natalie who mentioned they were looking for Dominique.

"What for?" she asked, wondering what possibly couldn't wait until she returned to the common room in an hour or so. As soon as she finished speaking, the sound of a bat cracking rang out. Seconds later, a mock Bludger landed about five feet away from all of them.

Natalie's eyes went wide. "That almost hit us."

"I was thinking that it didn't come close enough," Dominique muttered, before calling out, "You missed, Tommy! Work on your aim!"

"I swear to..." Jack said, under his breath, before he took off running down the stairs as fast as he could. Tommy was already dashing away across the pitch in the opposite direction.

"Someone's flying laps," Sarah mumbled before she turned back toward Dominique and took the seat directly in front of her. Natalie took the spot Jack had vacated.

Dominique glanced between the two of them, her grin settling on Natalie. "Heard you chucked Flynn. You look really sad about it."

She rolled her eyes, not even amused by the insinuation. "Not a moment too soon. He had absolutely no desire to do anything other than get completely wasted yesterday with his friends. Not dance, not talk, not anything other than hide out in the flower garden and drink all night." She shrugged. "So, I walked out there, told him I was over it, we were done, and went off to find Eleanor and the other girls."

She looked over at Dominique. "He was already so off his head, that he didn't even realize I'd done it! I had to do it again once he came over and tried to kiss me near the punch." She sighed. "I wasn't trying to tell him off in front of everyone, but he did it to himself. He got the message that time."

"He spent the rest of the night sad drinking out in the garden," Sarah said.

"Notice he was still drinking..." Natalie muttered, not looking the slightest bit cut up about it. Dominique found her resolve rather admirable.

It was rather funny to see Sarah and Natalie carrying on how they used to; even with simply sitting here in the stands together. She got a quick flash of a memory she didn't recognize of Natalie and Sarah laughing in the stands that must have been from Louis' perspective, but she quickly shook it off in favor of her own memories of all of them being years younger.

They would sit out here on a nice day, enjoying the weather, having a bit of a chat, Sarah and Natalie gossiping. This was back when Natalie wore too much eye makeup, Sarah didn't know what to do with the new tits she'd acquired over the summer, and Dominique would tire of them both far more quickly than she did these days; often abandoning them both to go and fly. It had been ages since they'd last gathered here like that.

"Anyway, what are you two doing out here?" Dominique asked, now seeing that Tommy was lapping the perimeter of the pitch while the rest of the team was back to work. "I know it's not a sudden interest in Quidditch."

Natalie was shaking her head, though she let her gaze fall onto Sarah. Sarah was focused on watching the pitch, almost looking as if she wasn't paying attention to the rest of them. Once Natalie realized Sarah wasn't going to speak, she sighed loudly. "Nicki, do you know what I did after the ball last night?"

Dominique stared at her before slowly shaking her head. She didn't know. She didn't really care either, so she wasn't sure why—

"I helped Eleanor chat up Ansel Baileymoore because she fancies him," Natalie said in a strange tone, as if she were playing at something.

Dominique made a face. "Gross. Why?"

Natalie waved her off as if it were unimportant. "Oh, I don't know. She thinks he's clever and nice or something. That's not the point." She turned to her and, in a very over the top way, asked, "What did you do after the ball?"

Again Dominique stared at her. What the fuck was happening? She looked at Sarah, who'd taken that moment to turn around and roll her eyes at Natalie. Natalie ignored her and repeated the question.

"Uh," Dominique mumbled, thinking back to that night. She and Jack had left the dance halfway through the Nymph Chasers concert and gone back to his room. Louis and Flynn wouldn't be back for ages, but he'd still taken measures to make sure they'd known the room was occupied and would thus leave them alone. And while, yes, they'd fooled around and had sex, they'd also spent most of those private hours on their own just lying together, talking, cuddling, relaxing. They'd taken their time, and even the sex had been different—more special—if that made any sense. It had been a rather perfect night.

"Jack and I went back to his room."

"He put the old sock on the door," Natalie asked in jest, as if she were all too familiar with the concept.

"I suppose, yeah. Why are you asking?"

"Sounds lovely," Natalie said, though she still had that strange tone in her voice, her eyes now back on Sarah. "And Sarah, what did _you_ do after the ball?"

She took a heavy breath. "Is this necessary?"

"What'd you do after the ball, Sarah?" Natalie repeated.

"I was going to tell her," she said to Natalie, though gesturing to Dominique. "Once I got over the embarrassment of being so stupid."

"What'd you do after the ball, Sarah?"

Dominique let her brow furrow. Something was happening here, though she couldn't even begin to guess what. She did know that she suddenly found herself keen to know what Sarah had done after the ball.

Sarah looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. She again took a deep breath before glancing everywhere but at Dominique. "After the ball...I...I may have…"

"You did," Natalie clarified. "There is no 'may have.'"

"Would you let me—?" Sarah began to say, just as Dominique blurted out, "Would you just spit it out? What did you do?"

"It's more _who_ she did," Natalie quipped.

She caught a look from Sarah for that, but that comment also seemed to prompt Sarah to close her eyes tightly—as if bracing for impact. "I had sex with your brother."

"After the ball," Natalie added, making sure everyone was properly following.

Dominique blinked several times before her face twisted into complete confusion. Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wider, her nostrils flared involuntarily. She was immediately shaking off a blurry memory of her brother and Sarah fooling around. After the ball? That didn't make any sense. They were barely on speaking terms.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

She looked utterly embarrassed now. This was not a story she was not interested in telling. "For the record, I was going to tell you. This is the first I've even seen you—"

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Dominique repeated, shouting it this time. "What? How? You two barely even speak to each other, what on Earth would possess you to…?" She gaped at her. "You hate him! How did this happen?!"

"It was a mistake," Sarah muttered, rubbing her eyes as she spoke. "After the ball. I wasn't thinking straight. I was on this post concert high because—I mean, you all know how much I love the Nymph Chasers. That was a life changing experience. I was riding this adrenaline high. I'd gone and found Flynn and his drunk crew out in that rose garden." She gestured to Natalie, who did nothing more than roll her eyes. "I started drinking, too, then the next thing I know, Louis was there."

She wasn't making eye contact with anyone as she spoke—least of all Dominique. "He's standing there, also drinking, and everyone's talking about the concert, but no one quite understands it the way Louis and I do. I'm obviously not going to get into that, but they're not on the same level."

"For fuck's sake," Dominique said. "Can we skip the music snob shit about how much deeper and cooler you two are because you've analyzed some bloody lyrics?"

Sarah's face grew tight. "Fine. but the point is, it got us both talking. Both of us were so excited that I sort of forgot about everything else. It was like old times." She shrunk into herself. "For a few minutes there, I forgot I hated him."

"You forgot so hard you slept with him?" Dominique yelled, her mind was now reeling. "Because I'm finding it hard to connect a nice chat in the garden about a concert turning into the two of you..." She stopped and let a frustrated noise escape her.

"I don't remember everything because I was several shots in at this point, but I do remember it going from music to him suddenly telling me that I looked sexy—which was laughable because you remember what I looked like that night? I'd gone straight from leggings to a dress in two minutes. I didn't even brush my hair with how quick I'd tried to get downstairs. I looked a mess. But he didn't let up. He's then telling me that he misses me, he's not even sure why we broke up, he fucked up, that he still loves me—"

"You didn't tell me that part," Natalie said as Dominique's expression did nothing more than freeze itself into a permanent expression that screamed ' _what the fuck._ '

Sarah was nodding. "And yes, while I know, 'it's a spell, he's under a spell…'" she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I also just can't bring myself to fully believe him. I can't do it. And I told him that. Asked him if he really felt this way, why am I just now hearing it? Asked him why he's been hanging off the French Girl since he got home if any of this was true?"

She shook her head. "He just kept saying he doesn't even know. The tournament is fucking with his head. He's having a really hard time. Now that he's home, and after having the Nymph Chasers remind him of all the good times, he says he's fucked up. He's still in love with me."

"And you...believed him? Natalie asked tentatively, which Dominique was happy for. She'd wanted to ask the same thing, but coming from her would have been far more aggressive than coming from Natalie.

Sarah sighed. "I mean, I wanted to. I wanted to believe everything he was saying because it's what I want to hear. I want him to regret what happened; I want to know that deep down, I'm the one he still thinks about." She suddenly turned to look at the both of them. "This is not to be confused with me wanting him back."

"But if you don't want him back, then why do you care—?"

"It's nice to know, alright?" Sarah snapped. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm not stupid enough to believe him, but I was stupid enough to fall for it right then. After he was done spouting all that rubbish, the next thing I know, he's whispering in my ear and telling me all sorts of things he knows I like to hear—but won't repeat because she," she gestured to Dominique, "doesn't want to hear it."

"I don't," she said, shaking her head. "But I do want to know why a few 'I love yous,' some dirty talk, and some whispering got you to drop your knickers so quickly?"

"Hold on, would you?" Sarah said. "And it's not as if I fucked him on the spot, thank you very much. Yes, I was halfway there because your brother knows exactly what buttons to push on me, but I'll have you know, I still told him to fuck off. I walked away and started heading back upstairs."

"You didn't walk very far," Dominique mumbled.

"No," Sarah said lamely. "Made it all the way to the fifth floor, but he'd come up after me. One thing led to another and I let him push me up against a wall and we were at it. Dragged ourselves to the prefects' bathroom and…" She made a waving gesture with her hand, as if to say, " _you know."_

Dominique groaned.

"I hope it was worth it," Natalie said.

Sarah shrugged. "He may be a arsehole, but he knows me like the back of his hand, so it doesn't take either of us very long to—"

Dominique covered her ears, noting that Sarah made no point stopping what she was saying. She seemed to go on for at least another minute and a half before looking over and signaling that she was finished with the racier parts. Once she dropped her hands, she caught Sarah ending with, "—bent over."

"I woke up the next day and realized how badly a fuck up that was," Sarah continued. "I didn't know what I was going to do or say to him when I saw him, but as it turns out…" Her face suddenly tightened up rather hard.

"We ran into him at lunch," Natalie said, seemingly ready to finish this story. "Right after she'd finished telling me all about it. He was sitting there with the Beauxbatons bloke, and Sarah stopped to talk to him."

"I assumed something should be said," Sarah said shortly.

"But he barely even acknowledged her," Natalie said. "He was actually going on about how special the French girl was, how he really wanted to see her. That sort of thing."

Dominique sighed.

"So, I told him," Sarah said, "that he's a fucking arsehole and to never speak to me again." She looked over at Natalie with a fire in her eyes. "Go on, then. Tell her what he said."

Natalie, looking as if she wasn't too keen on doing that, quietly said, "'Why would we ever have to talk?'" she quoted. "'Didn't we break up?'"

Dominique shut her eyes and let all of this sink in.

"I was about to risk suspension for cursing him into the fucking ground," Sarah said, "but instead, I told him that wasn't what he said last night when we were having sex, and told the Beauxbatons bloke he could tell his friend that."

"That completely set Louis off," Natalie said. "He flew off the handle and was shouting that wasn't true and he wouldn't have...but I dragged Sarah right out of there after that because they were likely to destroy each other. Then we came here."

Sarah was turned around now in her seat, staring aimlessly up at the sky and pretending to be interested in the practice. Dominique got the distinct impression she was trying hard not to let a sniffle or any raw emotion escape her.

"He stopped taking his potion," Dominique finally said. "The one that fights the love spell. He found out I wasn't taking it and said he shouldn't have to either. Today would have been the first day it wasn't in his system, so the stuff he said—"

Sarah turned and stared at her. "You are masterful at excusing his behavior. Truly masterful."

"I'm not—" Dominique said, pointing at her rather sternly, "excusing anything. You have every right to go hex him into the next century, but it does explain why last night he was saying one thing to you—things he probably meant—and this morning, he's back on Amalie. But his feelings for her aren't real. And that's not an excuse, it's a problem."

"Boys are rubbish," Natalie mumbled.

Sarah said nothing, and instead was back to watching the sky. Jack had just flown over the barrier and chosen that moment to join them in the stands; hopping off his broom and making his way toward them. He didn't even wait until he was close before shouting over, "What's going on? Why are you shouting? We all could hear you on the pitch."

"Because Sarah had sex with Louis last night!" Dominique said once he was within earshot. "And now that he's off his potion and back in love with Amalie, he's being a real dick about it."

Jack stopped walking, and his expression flashed with shock for only a moment as he made eye contact with Sarah. When she didn't deny it—instead opting to simply shrug—he started shaking his head and turned back around. "I can't deal with this. Not now."

He was gone in a flash, causing Sarah to look rather glumly back at Dominique. "I guess I can't give you shit about Davies anymore because now so see how quickly it can happen."

She made a face as if to agree with that. It had unfortunately been that easy; it was amazing how much damage could be done in a few moments of weakness. She knew that all too well.


	21. The Final Match

Louis was nowhere to be found once Dominique got back to Gryffindor Tower later that afternoon, and nowhere to be found at dinner either. She thought about what Amalie had mentioned—about how Louis would walk with Javier around the lake—but honestly, he'd been missing all afternoon. How many laps around the lake could he take?

He apparently returned while everyone had been at dinner, because Jack reported seeing him once he'd chanced a glance behind the curtains of Louis' bed. He was apparently snoring and fast asleep. Perhaps a day without his potion to regulate his obsessive thoughts exhausted him?

Dominique knew she could have gone up. She easily could have spent the night in there and waited him out until the morning to speak to him, but she'd already told Jack she was planning on sleeping in her own bed that night. Her reasons had been because he needed the best night's rest possible considering he had the Quidditch Cup the following day, and her sleep was only starting to get more and more restless.

"But I like when you're there," he'd argued as they sat beside each other on the sofa in the common room. He'd finally—finally—put away the playbook and was attempting to focus on something that wasn't Quidditch. She and Sarah had managed to catch him up on all of Sarah's drama with Louis, and they'd also listened to Flynn have a minor panic attack because he was now realizing he was totally unprepared for his N.E.W.T.s. This was on top of him also lamenting about his breakup, which made for quite the busy evening.

"I like it, too," she said, leaning further into him; he had his arm around her and was absently playing with her hair. "But we can afford the night off. You don't need me thrashing around and keeping you up."

"It doesn't bother me," he said, glancing over to where Sarah had taken pity on Flynn in his pathetic state and was attempting to help him understand his Herbology revision.

Dominique shook her head, knowing that Jack didn't mean that. "Fine, then I want to sleep in my own bed tonight. I miss it. We've only got a couple of more weeks, and as much as I enjoy sleeping with you, my bed and I have been sleeping together for seven years. It deserves a few more nights out of me."

He threw her a look. She'd been mostly kidding, of course, but a small part of her was serious. She really did love her bed.

"It's better this way," she offered. "We'll be back at it tomorrow. And if you win the match, I'll make it worth it."

He smiled. "If I win, huh? What happens if I lose?"

"I don't sleep with losers."

He pulled a doubtful face. Even Sarah caught wind of that and reacted, though Dominique could already see exactly what both of them were thinking. They both opened their mouths to presumably counter her, but she beat them to the punch. "Please don't make the obvious Davies' joke."

He closed his mouth.

"If he didn't make it, I was going to," Sarah quipped.

" _You,_ " Dominique said, "have no room to talk right now."

Sarah shrugged, as if to say, " _fair enough_ ," though Flynn, who was taking every possible opportunity to distract himself, was now looking from Jack to Dominique. "To be fair. Davies and Ravenclaw did win the Quidditch Cup last year, so technically he wasn't a loser—"

Jack was already shaking his head at him, though it was Dominique who said, "Stop talking."

They all retired for the night not long after, and it turned out that Dominique's sleep was the worst it had ever been. She couldn't remember what had happened in her strange, fucked-up dream, but it made her wake drenched in sweat with her heart racing. It was a terrible feeling that forced her to find the box of sleep potions that Louis had always been prescribed. He'd since given them all to her in case things progressed for her, and feeling rather desperate, she took a vial. Until that point, she'd had them stuffed into her bedside table, hoping to never have to use them; after everything she'd just felt, she was desperate for the relief they could hopefully bring.

They had knocked her out cold; the rest of her night had been completely dreamless. While she'd considered that a success, she now understood just how difficult it was to wake up after taking some. She'd learned that the hard way after Sarah had resorted to pouring a glass of ice cold water on her head to finally get her roused the next morning.

"I'm sorry, but it was the only thing that ever worked with your brother when he was that deep asleep," Sarah offered as Dominique sat there soaked and sputtering in her bed. "I know you don't want to miss the match."

"Match," she asked, pushing wet hair out of her face. "What time is it?"

"After ten."

"Seriously?!"

"Nat, Eleanor, and I tried to wake you. We figured you were just really tired, so we went for food and I came back to try again. She reached over and picked up an empty potion vial that had been discarded. "That's when I found this and realized just how out you were. If you're taking Louis' potions now, then things must be getting bad."

"They're not getting better," she muttered, her head feeling groggy and hazy. Everything felt fuzzy and if it was moving slower than normal. But she'd finally got some peaceful sleep; her first in ages. "But Longbottom's got someone coming by this afternoon to talk to me. He set it up."

Sarah looked happy to hear that, though all Dominique could do was observe her wet clothes. She pulled her sopping pajama shirt away from her chest, letting it immediately bounce back against her skin with a thwack.

Dominique needed to take a few extra minutes to wake up;.Sarah told her she needed to catch up with Natalie and some of the others, but that she would save her a seat if she was running behind. She changed into dry clothes, again finding it strange to be wearing scarlet and gold in support of Gryffindor instead of her Quidditch uniform, and was now hoping she could somehow find Jack before the match. She felt rather bad about not wishing him good luck and having their typical pre-match chat.

People were milling around the common room as she walked downstairs, everyone in their scarlet and gold, some with painted faces and markings. Dominique still felt hazy and as if everything was moving in slow motion; wondering how long the effects of this potion would take to wear off fully. She knew it had always taken Louis ages to wake up after taking it, but she never remembered him talking about feeling spacey or fuzzy-headed.

As if on cue, Louis appeared coming down the boys' stairs. He was dressed for the match and looked to be walking with a purpose toward the portrait hole. She sped up to catch him.

"Woah," he said, seemingly startled once he got a look at her. "Are you alright? You look exhausted."

She shrugged. "I took your old sleeping potions last night and I can't seem to wake up."

He didn't seem surprised to hear that. "They can take some getting used to. Did you have a nightmare? Is that why you took it?"

"Do you really think I'm taking them for fun?" she asked as they passed through the portrait hole. "You know how bad the nights can get."

While he did look concerned by that confession, he also looked as if he was out of apologies. Truth be told, she was happy about that. She wasn't sure how many more times she could hear him say he was sorry for causing all of this.

He cleared his throat. "I was only wondering if the night stuff was getting worse." He threw her a look. "Since nothing's getting any better and I wasted a load of time thinking it was."

She sighed. He was clearly still annoyed with her.

They both walked in silence for a moment before he finally looked over at her. "You really should go talk to the Healer I saw growing up so they can make sure the potion is right for you."

"Actually, funny you say that. Someone's coming around school later this afternoon," she said, as they continued toward the stairs. "Longbottom's set it up after him and I talked. I need to go to his office at three to meet them."

"That's good," Louis offered. "It's better to have someone evaluate you and get you set up with the right potions because mine might be all wrong for you."

"Well, it's not only about that," she said. "It's someone who deals with spell damage specifically. As in, learning to live and cope with it. Since it seems things probably won't..." She trailed off. She couldn't quite get the words, 'ever go back to the way things were' out of her mouth.

Louis was nodding. "Yeah, I'm starting to believe that myself. The repairing potion was bullshit. We haven't heard anything from anyone since we've gotten back to Hogwarts. DiSilva left us high and dry. No one's done anything. I'm starting to accept this as my new normal."

Dominique slowed down, causing Louis to turn and see why. "Then you should come, too."

"Come where?"

"To speak to the Healer with me. Talk about how your spell damage is affecting you."

He laughed at that. "No. I'm doing fine. Things are better. I sleep well. I don't have to take any potions anymore. I'm nowhere near as stressed. I don't care about most of the shit I used to. I barely even notice your memories anymore. I can bounce them out of my head easily. My life's gotten easier."

She didn't believe that. That was to say, she believed all the things he was saying were true, she simply refused to believe it wasn't affecting him worse than he claimed. Also, he wasn't taking into account the spell damage he wasn't aware of.

"But when you say you don't care as much, that includes things like school. You don't even want to take your exams."

"Why do you care so much that I'm not sitting my exams?" he snapped.

"And you're definitely more irritable," she added as an afterthought, "which is not only affecting you, but the people who have to deal with you—"

"Well, now you know how the rest of us felt for the last eighteen years," he laughed, clearly insinuating he'd picked that part up from her. "And it's less that I'm irritable, but that my fuse for bullshit just got shorter. When you realize there is more to life than being perfect and living up to everyone's ridiculous expectations, you stop caring about what everyone thinks."

She made a face. Was he seriously lecturing her on now caring about what people thought? She'd written the book on that.

"You," he continued, "You I understand you needing to see someone."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Because all of that anxiety you're carrying around is shit," he immediately added. "I lived with it for years, I get it. You definitely need to talk to someone. But I'm fine."

"Lou," she said slowly. "Can you honestly say you've noticed nothing different outside of—reading slower? Comprehending less? Seriously? You may not see it, but things have changed."

"And I'm telling you that those changes are a good thing. They've allowed me more freedom and less restrictions." He stepped ahead of her. "You deal with yourself the way you want to and I'll deal the way I want to. I'm not hurting anyone, so who fucking cares?"

She rolled her eyes. Her potion must have been wearing off and clearing her head because she was now suddenly remembering why she'd wanted to track him down yesterday. Everything Sarah had told was coming flooding back, and she now had his undivided attention to address it.

"You really don't think you're hurting people?"

He swung back around. "Who am I hurting?"

"For starters, Sarah," she said, watching as his face took on a very hard quality all of the sudden. "I heard everything."

"She's lying."

"Why would she lie?"

He said nothing to that; he just stared.

"And it's not even the hooking up that's the part I take issue with," she said. "It's the part where you're telling her you're still in love with her—"

"I never said that! I wouldn't ever say that because I don't love her. The only person I love is—!"

"NO!" she shouted, cutting him off before he could say Amalie's name and send himself further into one of his spell induced tailspins. "No, you don't!

His expression was now rather baffled. She could practically hear the words, ' _How dare you'_ staring out from behind his eyes. "Yes, I do!"

"No, you…" She heaved a heavy sigh. She knew she shouldn't. She shouldn't say it because he wouldn't understand, but she'd already gone halfway. May as well get it off her chest.

"If you're sooo in love with her, then why did what happened with Sarah happen after the ball?"

He'd looked—briefly— as though he'd had an answer to shout straight back at her, but the look faltered. He even blinked rather strangely. "I...I made a mistake."

"But this is what I'm talking about, Lou," she said, trying to steer this back toward spell damage he could understand. "You would have never done something like that before. Not all of these changes are good! This is completely unlike you!"

He shook his head. "No. This has nothing to do with..."

"You've got more damage than you know."

"I do not, I'm…"

"You came back from Durmstrang with spell damage," she said, not caring if he didn't understand. "You already had some before you even went to France."

He pulled a complete and utter face, as if he'd never head something so stupid. "No, I didn't!" he spat. "What are you on about? I came back from Durmstrang with physical damage, not—"

"When did you fall in love with Amalie?"

There was the fucking smile. It creeped her out. "At Durmstrang."

"When?" she asked, "because I'm not seeing it, Lou. Nothing is in your memories. Absolutely nothing. Zara claims she never saw it, Javier never saw it, no one—"

"Because why would they? It was none of their business!"

"Then tell me when it happened," she said. "Tell me exactly when you knew she was the one for you."

He took an exasperated sigh, but looked as if he was attempting to answer the question. He was apparently searching the back part of his brain, but still coming up empty handed. "I don't...I just did. I don't have to explain myself to you. It just happened."

"It just happened?" she repeated, staring rather obviously at him. "You can't even give me a vague story about how you knew you were meant to be? How the stars aligned and everything made sense?"

"Because—"

"You don't remember because it's all in your head," she said. "You admitted that the mountain made you believe things. That you wanted to hurt people, that you were in love with people. You even used that as part of your excuse to Sarah when you broke up with her. 'The mountain made you do.' It made you kiss another girl because it was fucking with your head."

"It did fuck with my head—"

"What if it never stopped, Louis?" she asked, staring him down. "You claimed to have fought all those urges off, but what if you didn't? What if you were weak and near death, and trapped in a cave with a girl and these thoughts, and they somehow all came together and dug into your brain?"

He was staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Are you listening to yourself? You sound mental."

"You can't remember falling in love with her because you didn't," she said. "It's a fucking spell. You're damaged."

Louis' expression grew dark. He did not appreciate that comment at all. "No. What I feel is real."

"I bet it feels real," she said. "Especially when she's around or someone brings her up—or says her name!—because that's when it's clear something is messing with your head. You turn into this pathetic person who's begging for her love and attention. But the second she's gone away or out of you mind for a few minutes, you're back to normal. You're even clear headed enough to have sex with other girls because you're not actually in love with her!"

"YES, I AM!"

"Because you wouldn't be doing that if you were actually in love with her!"

"You don't..." he said very slowly; very angrily, stepping toward her. "What happened with Sarah was a fucking mistake that never, ever should have happened. I regret it entirely. But ultimately, Amalie—as much as I wish we were—are not together."

"Because she knows it's a spell, too. Everyone but you knows it's a spell!"

"You seriously believe that?" he said, stepping up to her. "You have no fucking clue. None whatsoever. You don't know her or our relationship or what we talk about. You seem to have it in your head that it's all spell damage and the tournament that's causing these changes in me, but maybe I just wanted to change? Maybe I was tired of the old me? Maybe now I can be something different."

"What's that?"

"Someone who doesn't give a shit what you or anyone else has to say!" he shouted. "i've made some mistakes, but I love Amalie. I do. Nothing can change that."

"But she's not in love with you!" She shouted, looking him in the eyes. "IT'S. A. SPELL."

He'd had a face full of nasty looks for her in the last few minutes, but this one—this one was the look to end all looks. This one was full of fire and anger and a sense of loathing that she'd never once, not in eighteen years, ever seen him muster. She tried not to let it startle her, deciding to press on because she needed to say this.

"And if you were actually in love, you'd see it," Dominique said, taking a precautionary step backwards. "But you can't see it. Everyone else can. Why do you think we've all been pushing for you to take that potion?"

He was staring at her, but for the briefest of moments she saw his expression flinch from anger to confusion.

"That potion wasn't to help us, it's why I never took it. It was to help you because it's the only thing that controls your spell. If you don't take it, you turn into a mess. Like now. No one wants to deal with you, especially the girl you're supposedly in love with. That's why I lied to you about it. You needed it and wouldn't take it if you knew the truth."

He was still staring at her, though not a word, an expression, or a movement had left his person since she'd started speaking. He looked frozen in time.

"And this wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but someone has to say something—"

"Fuck you," he said finally, causing her to jolt a bit at the cold and empty way he said it. "Fuck you. You're a liar."

"I've only lied to try and protect you. Now I'm telling the truth."

"No you're not. You're making up shit right now about spells! "

"I'm not making that up! You're under a—!"

"I'm not under any spells!" he shouted. "You're a fucking liar! All you've been doing lately is lying!"

"I'm not lying about this!"

He suddenly looked disgusted, as if she were some sort of squashed bug he'd just stepped on. "You. You were supposed to be the ones fucking person I could—"

"I am that person. I'm the only one telling you the truth!"

"You just told me how you lied to me, and I'm now supposed to believe you're telling the truth?" he said. "Fuck you! You can't accept that I'm not the same Louis who was always so fucking perfect. You can't accept that I want different things in life now, that I'm in love with a perfect girl."

"I can accept that if it made sense, but it doesn't!

"And you know what," he said, sounding as if he hadn't heard her, "if you can't accept it, you can stay away from me. We're done."

Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but pull a ridiculous face. "We can't be done. This isn't a relationship you can just end. It doesn't work like that."

But he'd turned to storm off at that. Her chest then started to clench uncomfortably. She and Louis had many rows in their day, but something about that one had been unsettling. There had been a moment, a brief moment, where she's actually been a little scared of what he was capable of doing. She wasn't dealing with the boy she grew up having shouting matches against any longer; this was a different person. She was a different person. Everything was so very different.

She took a deep breath and realized that if she was going to make it to the final Quidditch match, she was probably going to have to swing by the hospital wing to get something to stave off this feeling.

When she'd recounted it for Sarah and Natalie after she'd reached the arena later on, Sarah had actually looked almost as angry as Dominique had felt. She had already been through the wringer with how cavalierly Louis had thrown away everything they'd ever had, but a love spell shouldn't be forcing him to act out on everyone. That was all on him.

"It's as if he's trying to break up with you," Natalie had said from her seat beside Sarah. "He's just tossing aside everyone who dares disrupts this perfect little vision he has in his head."

"It's a fake vision," Dominique reminded them.

Natalie was nodding as if to agree, while Sarah sat positively fuming beside her as she stared out onto the pitch, "I can't believe he actually said that I was lying. As if I'd make that up. How about we go and ask his new French friend to fish around in that head of his to see who's lying."

"She has to already know about everything," Natalie offered. "He can't exactly keep secrets from her." She pointed to her head.

"I'd bet she actually doesn't," Dominique said. "I'd told her the night of the ball that he was going off his potion. She's probably avoiding him; that's what she did at Beauxbatons. She wants nothing to do with him when he's under the influence of that spell."

"I'm not even going to try and wrap my head around her wanting anything to do with him at all," Sarah muttered. "If I knew that, at any point, some boy would turn into a goon who would make me uncomfortable, I would cut him off for good when I had the chance. I wouldn't, instead, hang around him just because he happens to be well behaved on some potion. You play with fire..."

Natalie nodded, and Dominique looked away. The Calming Daughter was doing its job now and had managed to bring her down after her row, but it had come at the cost of having to listen to Pomfrey lecture her on getting a more reliable potion routine. She'd been positively delighted to hear Dominique was speaking to someone that afternoon.

She focused her attention on how the arena was packed with scarlet and gold, as well as blue and bronze. Madam Hooch had emerged from the tunnels then, signifying that the match was due to start in the next few minutes.

Dominique sighed. She really needed this. More than anything, she just wanted to focus on Quidditch and nothing more. She wanted to watch her team as they battled their way toward the Cup. She wanted to watch her boyfriend play in his last school match. She wanted to watch Giggleswick hopefully get destroyed. She wanted to be like everyone else sitting there and simply watch the final match of term. but that didn't seem quite possible. Her mind was in so many different places.

"Did you manage to catch Jack before?" Natalie asked after prolonged silence.

Dominique laughed a little, now smiling a bit awkwardly as she turned to look at the others. With everything else happening, she'd forgotten to tell them about her brief run in with Jack earlier. "I did. And it was incredibly weird."

She got curious stares from both girls as she began to explain that she had managed to catch Jack quickly between when Gryffindor had finished its warm ups and when they were headed back to the changing rooms. She'd snuck down through the back entrance; knowing she wasn't supposed to be back in the tunnels, but she also knew her way around well enough that she figured she could sneak in and out rather quickly.

She'd only had to wait a few minutes before Jack and the rest of her team had come off the pitch. She'd wished all of them good luck—throwing James, in particular, a very knowing look to remind him to take care of things—before she felt Jack's hand settle on her side. After he kissed her quickly to say hello, he said, "Glad to see you made it. Was worried you'd sleep through it when you didn't turn up to breakfast. Rough night?"

She smiled at him. As much as she wanted to recount to him about her awful night and her argument with her brother, now was not the time. She was here to let him run his last minute thoughts by her; let him ramble off his nervous energy, which he was doing by constantly reminding her—and thus, himself—how Ravenclaw was prone to attack the rings in pairs.

After a couple of minutes, she finally grabbed him by the shoulders as if to steady him. "You've got this. You will crush them. Focus on stopping the push and hope our Chasers can end things quick and clean." She held out her fist to him. "And don't fuck it up."

"Don't fuck it up," he repeated, tapping her as they had every time they'd done that since they were thirteen. He then smiled at her before he leaned in to lay a very excited kiss on her. She'd been a little startled by how hard he'd come at her, but she liked it. She always liked this side of him.

"I have to remember that you don't sleep with losers," he said, barely breaking away from her lips.

"I didn't really mean that—"

"Shhh, I'm using it as incentive," he said as he wrapped his arms around her. "Let me think it."

"Whatever pushes you harder," she laughed. "But, I will say that I did mean it when I said if you win this, I will make it worth your while."

"I want nothing more than to know what that means," he said before he kissed her again, this time both of them allowing it to get a little carried away due to all the excitement in the air. At least it had until someone cleared their throat behind them.

They'd slowly pulled apart, and she'd turned to find that Longbottom was standing there with her Aunt Ginny and her Uncle Harry.

At that part of the story, Natalie's jaw had dropped, though Sarah seemed only mildly confused. "Why were they there?"

"They'd come to watch James today," Dominique said, "and they hadn't wanted to cause a stir walking through the front. Longbottom was taking them through the back."

"Oh, shit," Sarah said with a laugh. Natalie still was staring rather slack jawed.

"They seemed mortified for having interrupted," Dominique said, shaking her head out of embarrassment. "I was mortified. And Longbottom immediately got on me about how I'm not even supposed to be back there."

"Did you get in trouble?"

She shook her head. "He just told me that I should know better and that it was time for me to go. But with Ginny and Harry standing right there, I couldn't ignore them. I had to say hi and introduce them to Jack." She made a face and made her voice purposely sound funny. "'Hi, Ginny and Harry! The boy whose throat I was just sticking my tongue down is my boyfriend. Pleasure to meet you.'"

Sarah was practically cackling now.

"Jack even started making small talk about the people Ginny had put him in contact with for Quidditch and how helpful it was," Dominique said in disbelief. "I just stood there thinking, 'Fuck my life. What is happening?'" She rubbed her eyes. "The moment wouldn't end until Longbottom finally said something about how Jack needed to get back to his team and we all needed to get to our seats."

"That's amazing," Sarah said, sounding genuinely amused. "Never a dull moment with you."

"All I want are dull moments," she muttered, just as a loud, familiar horn blew at that moment to signify the start of the match, causing everyone to suddenly stand up and cheer. Dominique pulled herself away from talks of being caught in the act to catch the scarlet robes of Gryffindor come flying out of their entrance with Jack leading the charge. Ravenclaw had emerged from the opposite end and everyone was now flying around the pitch and readying themselves.

James had gone straight up to examine the pitch from above, and she could only hope he'd taken everything they'd talked about to heart. Then again, perhaps he didn't need her tips and tricks and would manage on his own. Either way, it was strange to see someone else in her position.

Jack looked focused and more relaxed than he probably felt as he landed beside Hooch along with Giggleswick, listening to her quick pregame instructions before the pair were forced to shake hands. Immediately after, they both took to their brooms once more and retreated to their respective positions—Jack to the left side of the pitch as he and Tommy silently communicated something though hand and bat gestures, while Giggleswick took to the sky above it all and opposite where James was currently stationed. In the center, all six of the Chasers were poised and ready for Hooch to release the Quaffle.

"Don't fuck it up," she said to no one, feeling far more nervous standing there than she would have if she were on her broom. "Please don't fuck it up."

* * *

The match had been a complete back and forth from the start, until Ravenclaw had started to run away with things roughly half an hour in. It was fortunate that an incredibly well hit Bludger courtesy of Tommy had taken out Amelia Pragg, their strongest Chaser of the bunch. That alone had slowed down their offensive attack, allowing Gryffindor—and Eatins, specifically—to rally and keep the match within a hundred points.

Rory had taken a nasty Bludger to the side halfway through the match, but found it in him to stay on his broom and push forward—despite it seemingly rendering him useless. Once the Snitch had begun to pop up, Dominique could have sworn it was Giggleswick's to lose; it kept appearing on his end and within his line of sight. He unfortunately could not seem to close it, and one bad break—for him, not for Gryffindor—where James happened to get the jump on him ended the match.

In just under two hours, Gryffindor had won the cup.

It was an incredibly bittersweet moment to watch, as the team collapsed on each other into a dogpile of celebration. People in the stands were ecstatic; others were disappointed. Dominique stood there feeling an odd mixture of both. She should be down there at the bottom of that pile; not up in the stands. But this also had nothing to do with her any longer—she hadn't been part of the winning team. For all she knew, Giggleswick wouldn't have gotten that bad break with her and it would be an entirely different outcome. Gryffindor had done that on their own.

The residents of Gryffindor house had all returned to their Tower for the post-match celebration. Someone had already taken it upon themselves to nip to the kitchens for Butterbeer and treats, and the room was buzzing with high energy and laughter. It was a wonderful way to unwind before the reality of looming exams returned. Dominique decided to do her best to simply enjoy the moment instead of wishing it were different. She couldn't change anything, so why bother?

"Jack played really well," Sarah had said to her. She'd taken a seat on the armrest of the oversized chair Dominique had been sitting in while the celebration played out all around them. "He got a few good cracks in."

She nodded and gripped her Butterbeer. "He kept it consistent, but I think Tommy actually had the better show. For all the fucking around he's done, he really pulled it together today."

"They did well," Sarah said, glancing toward the portrait hole as it swung open. The team had returned, and the room erupted into loud cheers. Friends were rushing to greet them and randoms were offering their congratulations. Dominique could spot Jack entering—taking all the praise thrown at him—but she didn't stand to rush the entrance as so many others did. Let him have his moment. He'd find her eventually.

"Have you seen Louis lately?" Dominique asked Sarah, having noticed that she hadn't seen a trace of Louis since their argument. She'd scanned the stands of the match for him, but he hadn't turned up. He hadn't been back to the common room either.

"No, but I'm not looking for him," Sarah muttered.

Dominique said nothing. She'd been hoping to talk to him about what had happened earlier, but he'd once again seemed to vanish. She again wondered if he was down by the lake.

Jack had broken away from the crowds then; he was headed straight for her. She smiled the second they made eye contact and watched as he walked with a rather proud, almost cocky energy about him. If anyone deserves to walk around as if he owned the school right now, it was him. This was truly his moment.

"You're the one person I want to see and you're over here hiding," he said as he swooped in and kissed her; smelling of sweat and Quidditch and everything she loved. He'd come in so quickly that Sarah had gotten bounced off the opposite arm rest.

"Well done, you," she said after she pulled away, though she wrapped her arms around his neck as she did. "You all were amazing. I can't even critique much. You did everything you had to do and…" She laughed. "You won't the bloody cup!"

"Everything came together," he said, looking rather smiley. "The pieces worked, everyone was doing what they needed to do, Tommy—" His face lit up. "Did you see his hit on—?"

"I did. It was fantastic." She looked over Jack's shoulder to see Tommy surrounded by his friends and happily recounting some sort of story for them. She had to assume it was about his hit since he was miming swinging a bat.

"Textbook," Jack said proudly, as if by some sort of extension he'd been responsible. "It was at that moment, I knew he'd been listening to me for the last three years. I almost fell off my broom."

"I would have." she said, reaching up to playfully tousle his sweaty hair. Sarah appeared beside the pair of them to congratulate Jack—allowing him once again to praise Tommy's strike and gush about how well everyone had done.

Dominique took the moment to peel away and go congratulate Tommy herself for his game-changing hit. He was surprisingly modest when she'd told him well done, but he was also oddly thoughtful as he mentioned that it wasn't the same without her there. It prompted her to remind him that he needed to get used to that. Next year, he would be the team's most senior member.

She'd gone around to all of her former teammates to congratulate them. She'd told Rory he did a great job hanging in there, commended Alice on her quickness and ability to keep herself from getting knocked off her broom, and called Eatins a beast of a Chaser who'd somehow managed to hold the entire offensive core together like glue. She'd found Kenley to genuinely tell her she'd done very well—and it was true. She was by no means a stellar Keeper, but she'd grown and she'd tried. It was obvious that Dominique had been wrong about her from day one. She did care. She was simply slow to get there.

And James. She'd found him holding court near the window—his friends, his brother, his cousins, and their friends—all gathered around him to commend his match winning catch. She'd forced them all aside—which wasn't hard, seeing as she still managed to intimidate a few people around here—and walked directly up to him. He seemed rather proud of himself as they made eye contact.

"I don't know why you're always so worried about that Giggleswick bloke," he said rather confidently. "Seems rather unremarkable, if you ask me."

She raised her eyebrow at him, though he immediately broke into a fit of laughter at her face as if he was taking the piss and seeing how she would react. He should be happy he was currently the match winning Seeker; otherwise, she may have to curse him. "He almost had you a few times. You got a few lucky breaks."

"He's very good." He shrugged. "But I'm better." She raised her eyebrow once more, before he added, "What? I have the stats to prove it."

She reached out and tapped him on the side of the head; not enough to hurt him, but to knock some sense into him. "Don't get cocky. No one likes cocky. I was about to come over here and tell you 'well done', but I think you've pat yourself on the back enough for the both of us."

He stopped smirking and lett his dumb act drop for a moment. "I'm mostly kidding. I actually took a lot of your tips and used them. It helped. You've got a good eye for this stuff and you know his habits really well. I felt as if it helped me stay ahead of him. So, thanks."

She smiled a little. "You did really well, James. I mean that. If anyone else was going to go out there and fill my shoes, I'm happy it was you. Just...keep it up next year."

"I will," he said, his response genuine.

She'd gone back to find Jack after that—finding him sitting in the chair she'd abandoned and talking to a collection of people who were passing around butterbeers. He'd already abandoned most of the extra layers of his Quidditch uniform down to a t-shirt; as she plopped down on the armrest of his chair, she listened as he finished telling a story about how he'd had casual run-ins with representatives from two different teams after the match, both of whom seemed impressed with his performance. He was now brushing off people's questions as to where he thought he may be playing next year.

She reached out and gave his back an affectionate rub as he spoke; realizing that even a mundane gesture such as this was so much more than she would have ever been capable even just a short time ago. A year ago, she was hiding in tunnels and down empty corridors if she wanted to spend time with a boy. Six months ago, she would have cringed at the idea of even attempting to publicly show affection. But somehow, someway, he'd managed to break her down over the weeks and months. She not only felt comfortable with the hand holding and the touching now, but even kissing in a room full of people wasn't something she was afraid of any longer. He really did have the patience of a saint.

He'd finished his story and turned back to look up at her—smiling as he did so. She smiled back and randomly pushed his hair back. It was nice to see him as happy as he was. He'd worked really, really hard to get to this point and he'd put up with a lot of pushback from people—most of all her. It really was his time to celebrate.

He reached up and pulled her down into his lap, taking her completely by surprise. She let that reaction give way to laughter as he purposely bumped his forehead against hers, staring at her as he said, "I love you."

She smiled a little, feeling a little exposed. While she'd come a long way, she still felt a bit vulnerable. "I know," she said . "And I love you, too."

"No, I really love you."

She pretended to look confused. "Did you fake love me before, or…?"

"No," He smiled. "I'm only making sure you know." He let his head thump back onto the chair. "I'm really happy right now."

"I can tell," she said, and when she smiled, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to stop. Just seeing how happy he was made her happier than she knew she was capable of being.

To further demonstrate how much she'd come along as a person in the last few months, she made no attempt to get off his lap and remained there while entire conversations happened all around them. People would talk to him, to her, and no one seemed to care or question it as she'd always oddly assumed people would. The hang ups she had for so long seemed rather stupid now as life buzzed all around them. This was apparently perfectly normal—it had just taken her ages to get there.

"And then he stormed off," she said to him later on, recounting her and her brother's row earlier that day. "Told me we we're done."

Jack had been listening intently, his face expressionless until the end when he suddenly looked baffled. "What does that even mean?"

"I think he broke up with me," Dominique half-joked. She wasn't sure how else to put it, even if she knew it sounded ridiculous.

"That doesn't…" Jack couldn't seem to wrap his head around any of this. "What?"

"I keep trying to tell him that his damage is starting to show that he's worse off than he understands; that he needs to see someone. But if you ask him, he's perfectly fine," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm just being a bitch.."

Jack sighed, though suddenly glancing over to the clock above the fireplace. "Don't you have that thing today? What Longbottom set up? At three, right?"

She nodded, her mood feeling rather heavy. "Probably should leave in a few." She looked back at him a little glumly. Her expression must have been telling because he immediately leaned in and kissed her.

"I'll talk to him," he said.

"Good luck," she muttered. "He refuses to listen to anyone."

"I'll figure it out. I always have. We have a different relationship than you two. He goes on the defensive with you because that's how you two work. He doesn't do that with me."

"You mean he didn't _used to._ "

"In the entire time we've been friends, we've fought maybe twice. And we made up and buried it all an hour later. It's how we work."

She didn't look entirely convinced, but chose not to comment further. Maybe he was right. If anyone had always gotten along on Louis, it was Jack. Louis might possibly leave his guard down a bit longer with him than he would have with her. Jack didn't fly off the handle like she did.

She pulled herself up off of Jack's lap so that she could make her way downstairs to Longbottom's office. All around the room, the mood was still jovial and celebratory. Some people looked to be quieting down; others looked as if they could go all night. It made her miss simpler times now more than ever.


	22. Cracked

At just before three o'clock, Dominique knocked on Professor Longbottom's office door. It immediately opened, revealing Longbottom sitting behind his desk and his wand pointed at the door he'd presumably just charmed to open. There was a large, rather aggressive looking potted plant sitting in front of him that was currently wrapping several of its vine-like arms all around a ball that it had acquired from somewhere. When Longbottom noticed her staring, he quickly told her, "It's only playing."

She'd been tempted to ask what exactly it was playing, but she instead opted to not say anything at all. Longbottom was moving the plant off of his desk to the back corner and turning back around on her with a pleasant smile.

"Healer Cane seems to be running a bit behind," he offered, gesturing for her to sit. "Which can be typical, I'm afraid. But it should only be a few minutes. Sorry about tearing you away from the celebration upstairs.

I'm afraid I didn't plan this well."

She shrugged and took her familiar chair—the one she always found herself in—as she sighed and looked around, eventually finding herself turning back to Longbottom. He was still smiling politely at her, as if they both knew something should be said to fill the time.

"How have you been, Dominique?" he finally said.

She shrugged. They'd be here all day if she gave him a truthful answer to that question, so she instead mumbled a fairly innocuous sounding, "Fine."

"Madam Pomfrey tells me you're visiting her almost regularly for Calming Draught."

"I guess," she said, holding her hands together in her lap. "It does help when I feel anxious."

"I'm sure it does," he said as they lulled themselves into another bout of silence before he then added, "You must be ecstatic that Gryffindor won today."

She nodded, though her expression remained rather reserved. "Absolutely. Couldn't be happier. Jack and the rest of them worked really hard. They deserve it."

He was nodding. "They did. Absolutely fantastic way to end the season. Really couldn't be prouder." He let himself observe her rather thoughtfully. "I do find it unfortunate that you didn't get the chance to experience it, though."

She smirked at him. "Well, sir, you suspended me from the rest of the season."

"Doesn't make it any less unfortunate," he said as his expression suddenly grew curious. "Have you still been flying? I remember you mentioned you weren't comfortable on a broom these days."

"I am," she said. "But…" She shrugged. "No real improvement. I've come to accept that my best flying days might be behind me."

Longbottom let his eyes drop to his desktop; his expression seemingly disappointed to hear that. "How do you feel about that?"

She smirked again. "And here I thought the Healer would be the one asking me those kinds of questions."

With a small laugh, Longbottom seemed to concede to that, adding that he completely understood if she preferred to save her energy for when the Healer got here instead of laying it all out for him. He did, however, suddenly use his wand to charm a nearby chest of drawers to open, which allowed a lengthy looking scroll of parchment to rise from within. She watched as it landed on his desk, causing him to unroll it and begin scanning down the paragraphs and paragraphs of writing.

"I ask because…" He stopped to read something, as if he'd found what he was looking for, "we haven't spoken about your future plans much at all. I believe the last two or three times I've asked you to set an appointment to have that discussion, you've chosen not to."

That was true, though two or three times was probably well under the actual amount of times she'd avoided having that sit down with him about her plans and career aspirations. The last time she could remember doing it, she was fairly certain it was after she'd gotten her O.W.L. scores in fifth year.

"Last we spoke," Longbottom said, still reading over what she'd now realized was a scroll about her, "You were going to be a professional Quidditch player." He looked back at her.

She exhaled rather heavily. "Guess that's out."

He was still reading her scroll, his eyes scanning very quickly. "Well, it may be very late in the term, but in the grand scheme of life, you've got plenty of time to figure yourself out. Let's talk about possible other paths while I've got you here. Outside of Quidditch, what subjects held your interest? What area of study?"

She shrugged. "I never really had one. I sort of just...did them because I had to."

"You earned O.W.L.s in Charms and Runes." His brow furrowed as he seemed to notice something. "Herbology too, but you dropped my class." He looked back at her. "Why?"

Well, she wasn't about to tell him the truth—how she'd been angry with him after he'd suspended her from Quidditch fifth-year and she hadn't wanted to be in his class any longer. "I guess, I didn't want to continue. I don't remember."

He hummed and continued reading. "That's a shame. You did well. Better than you did in Transfiguration and you kept up with that."

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something about that, but it seemed he was merely commenting because he was already moving on to the next question. "How are you feeling about N.E.W.T.s? Confident? Apprehensive?"

"I feel as if I could easily earn all ten N.E.W.T.s with close to top marks," she said matter-of-factly and without hesitation.

Longbottom not only looked rather shocked to hear that, but confused as well. Who could blame him? He knew what she was capable of as a student. Or, what she _had_ been capable of.

"Is that so? Been studying hard or...?"

"Or I have my brother's—" She pointed to her head, which immediately made Longbottom nod as if he realized.

"Right," he said. "Seems there's a small upside."

She shrugged. "I suppose. I don't see N.E.W.T.s being a problem."

"I don't hear that often," he said, putting her scroll down onto his desk to look back at her. "But if you could swing ten, that would certainly open doors for you. If you do as well as you think you will, it would allow you to explore quite a few career opportunities that you may never have considered."

She took a deep breath before letting it slowly release. "I don't even know where to begin. I feel as though so many of my friends have had their minds made up since O.W.L.s, but I…" She looked away. "I've never even had a back-up plan."

"Back-up plans are important," he said, watching her rather intently now. "It's why I try so hard to get my house members in here to have these discussions about your futures so that you understand all of your options, but some people…"

She laughed a little. "Some people blow you off."

"Can't force anyone to listen if they don't want to."

She nodded, now thinking about why she wouldn't have even entertained the idea of sitting down with him to have this conversation. Even when she could fly, she hadn't been guaranteed a career in Quidditch. What if it hadn't happened even without the spell damage? Had she honestly been so naive to think that—until recently—it was still going to happen somehow, someway? What made her so special?

"I'm not really sure why I never had a back-up plan," she said.

"You are in a unique position," he said casually. "You do know quite a few well-connected people who I'm sure would help you find something if you asked for help."

She stared at him, slowly letting the words he'd spoken sink in. She did know a lot of people. People all over the Ministry, people who recognized the Weasley name. It sort of hit her like a Bludger to the head then why she believed she was so special. She'd felt she was special because she'd grown up her entire life being fucking special. She was. There was nothing more to it.

She suddenly laughed to herself, but it was humorless. "You're right. I didn't have a back-up plan because I didn't need one."

Longbottom cocked his eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Because my aunt is the next Minister of Magic. Because the rest of my family is, as you said, well-connected. Up until recently, I joked my brother would rule the world, and he could have found me something. Who needs a back-up plan when your family practically runs everything?"

He now looked as if he was beginning to understand.

"I've never actually considered it, but…" She shrugged. "Yeah. I think a part of me must have subconsciously known this. I'm a Weasley, for Merlin's sake. First family of the bloody wizarding world these days, aren't we?" She laughed in a doubtful manner, as if a world of realization was suddenly raining down on her. "It was easy for me to only care about Quidditch and nothing else because I've never had to worry about not having options. When you know who I know, there are always options."

Longbottom didn't look as if he could argue what she was saying. "Well, it's certainly a privileged position to be in."

She looked straight at him. She could remember being called privileged once before—by Sabatino at the Quidditch Trials—though when he'd said it, she'd gotten angry and defensive. She'd been insulted that he discounted all of her hard work and, instead, attributed it only to her family's connections. She argued that she'd worked hard to achieve everything she had and it never had anything to do with her family.

But the truth was that, of course, it had. She saw that now and understood what he meant. He wasn't discounting that she'd put in work at Quidditch, he was trying to make her see that her hard work wasn't necessarily equal to other people's.

It's easier to catch a Snitch if someone releases it in front of you versus if they do it across the pitch. Being a Weasley allowed her a safety net that the average wizard didn't get. It was basically like having people release the Snitch in front of her her whole life. And while she would catch it and claim she did all the work, did she really work as hard as the person who's constantly forced to chase it around the pitch?

She could skip her homework and get a hundred detentions, because ultimately someone would look out for her and help her out. She could blow off school and concentrate on a dream like playing Quidditch because if it didn't work out, someone would find her something in one of their departments. Most people didn't have that luxury—her parents hadn't. While she'd always realized much of this on some level, this also felt as if it was brand new information to her. She really did have so many bloody advantages.

"Dominique?" Longbottom asked, his expression rather unsure, seeing as she was having a bit of a crisis sitting there in front of him. "What are you thinking?"

"How my entire life is a lie," she said.

"Your life isn't a lie."

"What have I done that my family isn't directly responsible for?"

"Plenty," he offered. "Though, on that note, don't you think most people would say the same thing?"

She stared at him.

"That our families and support systems have helped and shaped us into who we are. Families helping each other is not exclusive to you. Your family is simply fortunate enough to have more pull than most. It's more recognizable."

"Which is the problem," she said. "What have I achieved on my own? What have I done? I mean, even my brother and sister, they worked hard in school and earned their marks and exam scores. They earned those. I can't even claim I'll earn mine, I've gotten 'lucky' with some spell damage."

"You still have to study and learn the material," he offered. "And those Quidditch wins and achievements were yours as well. You did that. It's just a matter of recognizing that you had advantages getting there—that's the key. You can be both proud of your accomplishments and aware that you had the time and support that many didn't. Recognizing that is the first step to acceptance."

"But I still feel as if—"

"The friends you've made and the relationships you've cultivated, these too are things you've done on your own. You've achieved quite a bit and you'll continue to. You can't put everything on your family. But it certainly does take a village." He smiled at her. "In your case, you've got a very well-to-do village."

"But I don't want to ask them to connect me to my future," she argued. "I want to know that whatever it is I decide to do, I did it on my own. I thought I was doing that with Quidditch, but…" She trailed off.

"Have you ever thought about working in Quidditch?"

Her face fell. Seriously? Has he not been listening about how Quidditch was entirely off the table now?

" _In Quidditch,_ " he repeated. "Not playing, but rather the off-broom aspects. Quidditch as a business and an entertainment spectacle is a massive operation. There are Ministry facets dedicated to its regulations, there's the IQA, and each individual team here in Britain has back-office operations.

"I only ask because you enjoy Quidditch. You obviously have dedicated much time to it. And if you do as well on your exams as you seem to think you will, you would have the exam scores to qualify for many of these jobs. And your knowledge of the sport, as well as experience and Trials participation could make you quite the candidate. I would write you a letter of recommendation today attesting to your Quidditch expertise. And I'm sure several other professors would do the same."

She found herself stopping to look at him rather astonished. He would do that for her? Actually take time out of his day to recommend her—her?—for something?

"You would?"

He seemed unsure as to why she seemed surprised. "Of course, I would. I want you—all of you—to succeed. I'm currently writing five other student letters and none of them have famous relatives. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're a Weasley or I know your parents. I want you to succeed because I care about my student and I genuinely believe you are capable of great things on your own. Without all of the extras."

She wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but managed to half offer a, "Thank you, sir," before a sudden knocking on the door caught his attention. He stood to answer it, but not before catching her eye one last time.

"Do me a favor and start considering back-up plans. I'll have your letter to you before your N.E.W.T.s are completed."

She nodded, as Longbottom went to greet and welcome a man Introduced to her as Garfun Cane, Healer Cane. He was the same height as Dominique, and she was by no means tall. He had wild, white hair and a white beard that fell to his chest and was currently plaited into a single piece. He smiled pleasantly at Dominique, extending his hand out immediately to shake hers and apologizing for being late.

"I've known Healer Cane since I was younger," Longbottom continued, and she could immediately tell there was a familiarity between the two. She found herself curious as to why he had so many connections to people in the spell damage department. All of his rose sales were always to benefit that ward specifically; he claimed to know a lot of people who worked there; he was clearly on very friendly terms with Healer Cane; he seemed very concerned about the effects of spell damage and learning how to deal with it. She may have to ask her parents or Ted if they knew why he seemed so involved in this specific area. Maybe her Aunt Ginny since the two were close friends.

"He's been working with victims of spell damage for..." Longbottom began, but he didn't seem to have an exact answer; he turned to Cane for some sort of confirmation.

"Fifty-three years this July," Cane said in a voice that was deeper than Dominique had expected.

"You're in excellent hands," Longbottom said to Dominique before rounding back on Cane. "Though, I have to admit I was expecting one of your associates. I'd have thought you were too busy."

"Well, after consulting with you and Minerva, as well hearing the entire story as to what happened, I have to admit I was rather fascinated. Hector DiSilva is renowned for his perfectionism, so to hear something he did malfunctioned is..." He shrugged and smiled a little, apparently not going to finish that sentence. "Though, I see I've only got one of you. Is your brother not coming?"

Dominique found her mouth twitch a bit. "Actually, no. He seems to be under the impression he's perfectly fine."

"Now, do you believe that to be true?" Cane asked, "or is he in denial?"

Longbottom had started to explain how Louis did seem to be handling things better as far as he could tell, but as soon as he'd said it, Dominique couldn't listen any longer. He wasn't McGonagall, but it was time people knew the truth.

"Sir," she said, standing up straighter. "He's not fine. There have been changes. I'd been hoping to speak with Professor McGonagall about it, but I haven't seen her—"

"She's been very busy with planning for the final task," Longbottom offered. "She was here for the match this morning, but left straight after. Quite a bit of back and forth between here and the Ministry."

"Right, well…" She glanced from Longbottom to Cane and back again. With the heaviest breath could muster, she launched into the entire story. From start to finish—about the love spell, about DiSilva and the potion, about it helping him until he'd stopped taking it, and now about how he seemed to be off the rails even worse than before. She'd stopped short of telling him about her argument with him, but did mention he was far more volatile and irritable lately, which she believed was damage from the second task growing strong—just as her anxiety was.

When she was done, Longbottom was staring at her rather dumbfounded. Cane, however, was nodding. "That's more about what I'd been expecting after the notes I'd read. Telling me the boy was handling things well seemed far-fetched. And then add to that an ancient love spell?" He began reaching around rather eagerly in the bag he'd brought with him.

Longbottom swallowed. "Dominique, why wouldn't you have—"

"I know I should have said something sooner," Dominique said to him, "but it seemed completely under control. Until today."

Cane had pulled out a quill and pad and was scribbling down rather furiously, while Longbottom turned away, as if lost in thought. "I'd wondered why…" He'd begun to say before stopping to ponder something. "When Professor McGonagall asked me about the ingredients for that restorative potion, I'd felt some of the medicinal herbs it required were a strange choice. As someone who's spent a fair amount of time researching herbs and plants for their healing qualities, there's not much out there that can be done for most cases of spell damage. Trust me, I've looked."

"Potions can only manage and help control the effects of spell damage, but nothing exists to simply reverse what's been done," Cane offered, never looking up from his notes. "I would have been out of a job many years ago if that were the case."

"Professor McGonagall seemed caught up on the fact that it's a very old concoction," Longbottom said. "One that's generally believed to help drive off dark magic and spells that have entered the body. It's the stuff of myths and legends. She couldn't see how it was supposed to help with damage procured from an improper spell, but…" He shrugged. "Ultimately, we assumed DiSilva knew something we didn't."

"He did know what he was doing," Cane offered, having stopped scribbling. "He simply lied about the reasons he was doing it. The question is now whether the boy will suffer because of the sudden withdrawal. This can go in many different directions."

"So, we would need to get him back on it?" Longbottom asked.

"He won't take it," Dominique said.

Cane smirked a little. "Well, he would not be the first person to resist taking a potion required of him. There are ways that can be addressed. I would need to evaluate him."

"I tried to get him here today, but he refused. He truly believes he's fine. We had a row about it."

"Again, he would not be the first to think that," Cane offered, glancing over at Longbottom.

"I'll speak to the Headmistress about it when she returns this evening," he said looking rather confused by the entire situation. "I only wish we'd known this from the start." He looked pointedly at Dominique.

"She can't be entirely blamed," Cane offered, gesturing to Dominique. "She's dealing with her own issues, on top of being a teenager. They often feel they have everything under control." He laughed as if that was funny to him. "It's Hector DiSilva, who should have…" He made a face and never finished that sentence.

There was a sudden shuffling along the wall, and a gentleman Dominique recognized from a portrait that hung above the Gryffindor mantle had appeared in a nearby frame. He had brushed the wizened old witch in that portrait aside, much to her chagrin, and immediately said, "Professfor, there's been a disturbance in Gryffindor Tower that requires your immediate attention."

Longbottom sighed, but nodded. He turned his attention back to Cane. I'm sorry, Healer Cane. We won the Quidditch Cup today, which, while wonderful, does cause some madness to occur. You'll have to excuse me."

"Of course," Cane said as if he understood, turning to smile at Dominique. "We'll be fine. It's about time I get to know Dominique, here."

* * *

Just under an hour later—after Healer Cane had to end their talk due to yet another commitment— Dominique had left Longbottom's office feeling a lot of mixed things. She didn't feel differently as she assumed she would have, but maybe she was instant expecting results too soon. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

He'd listened to her rather intensely, asking multiple questions and stopping her frequently to make her dissect how she felt about things that had happened to her throughout her life. They'd focused almost entirely on her anxiety issues, and Dominique felt she'd barely gotten to scrape the surface of the things she'd wanted to speak to, but Cane seemed to sense this. He had asked her to please consider coming to see her again once she'd graduated. He felt that if they continued to see each other, she may see a world of good come from it.

He also had come up with a starter potion regimen for her that he felt would allow her from having to drink Calming Draught every day. While he'd said it may have to be tweaked until they found her the perfect recipe, it was nice to know that she'd soon be living a relatively normal life—just as Louis had—as long as she took them regularly. Knowing that unexpected anxiety attacks and nightmares were soon to be a thing of the past was an altogether calming feeling in itself.

She took the long way toward the stairs so that she could further digest more of what had just occurred, but found herself startled to see Sarah sitting outside of Flitwick's office. Her footsteps must have alerted Sarah to her presence because she immediately stood when she saw her.

"Why are you down here?" Dominique asked as she walked toward her. "Are you looking for Flitwick?"

"No," she said, her face serious and her eyes urgent. "Longbottom. He's using Flitwick's office because his was occupied—"

"By me," Dominique said with an obvious sort of smile. "I was in there talking to the Healer bloke, which actually was really—"

"Nic, something happened."

She let her eyebrow raise. She could sense this was serious from Sarah's fidgety nature. "What?"

She took an exceedingly deep breath. "There was a fight. As in, as actual brawl. Not a quick row or a shouting match."

"You were in a fight?" She looked her up and down; she looked unscathed, so if she had been, she seemed to have come out on top.

"I was for a part of it," she said. "But not for the brawl part. That was between Jack and Louis."

Dominique didn't think it was possible for her eyes to grow any wider at hearing that. Had she just said…? "Jack and Louis got in a fight? An actual fight?"

She nodded. "They both threw punches."

"At each other!?" she shouted. "There's no possible...You can't be serious?"

She was now nodding and gesturing to Flitwick's door. "They're in there now with Longbottom," she continued, causing Dominique to stare at the large, wooden door as if it was suddenly going to reveal all the answers to the multiple questions she now had. "It happened not long after you left."

" _What_ happened? Tell me exactly," Dominique asked, urging her to get a move on and tell the rest of this story. "What could have possibly possessed either of them to hit each other?"

Sarah again took a deep breath. "You'd been gone a bit and Jack and I were sitting around the sofas, chatting. Out of nowhere, Louis comes in. And he's irate, Nic. I've never seen him so angry. It was honestly scary at first.

"And he comes straight to us and starts demanding to know where you are. Jack's trying to calm him down and get to the bottom of things, but he's just ranting and raving. When he realized you weren't there, he set in on me."

"For what?!"

"Because the French girl refuses to see him," she said. "She wants nothing to do with him. She won't even talk to him, and he claims it's because you told her about me and him after the ball."

Dominique pulled a face. "What? Why would I have...? Seriously? She doesn't want to see him because she knows he's off his fucking potion!"

"Which is what I figured, but he swore up and down it was you because you're out to destroy his life and this connection he has with her."

"For the love of Merlin...!"

"It completely cracked him. I got in his face and told him you wouldn't have done that and that you didn't go near her all day. Then he turned on me and said it must have been me." She rolled her eyes. "I told him I have a hundred better things to do to meddle in his fake love life."

Sarah looked to be gathering herself before continuing. "But once I got started, I couldn't stop. I was angry now, too. He's been so bloody obnoxious lately, I went in on him for everything, all the lying." Her face tightened up as if she were reliving the moment again. "We had it out right there. He claimed that I was jealous; I told him I was happy to be rid of him."

"What the fuck?" Dominique said, barely above a whisper.

"Nic, I've never seen him like that in all the time I've known him," Sarah said. "But I also didn't care because it felt good to tell him off."

"Alright," Dominique said, still sounding baffled. "That explains why he was angry, but it doesn't explain why he and Jack—"

"Because…" She seemed to be flustered trying to recall everything. "Louis and I were heated and the whole bloody common room was watching. Jack's had enough at this point and he's trying to get Louis out of there because he's cracked, but Louis shoves him and tells him not to touch him. I don't even know what happened next, but apparently Louis pulled out his wand, but it then got knocked out of his hand—presumably by Jack? Everything was happening so fast I couldn't be sure, but I saw Louis swing on Jack. Got him in the eye, I think. I remember it looking swollen before Longbottom got there, but Jack instinctively swung back on him and…" Sarah's face looked rather grim. "I mean, Jack's a Beater."

Dominique closed her eyes, as if bracing herself. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," she said. "Got him square on the nose. Clearly broke it. You could hear the sound." She paused. "There was blood everywhere."

Dominique's expression grew pained as she attempted to visualize her brother's nose spewing blood like a faucet.

"Settled Louis down right quick, though," Sarah continued. "He just stood there swearing and holding his nose while Jack came to grips with what he did. Someone came over and helped stop the bleeding and someone else fixed Louis' nose. I think Jack was in shock because he just stood there staring into space while Louis sat across the room, mopping up his own blood with his shirt. Longbottom turned up after that."

Dominique found herself stunned into silence, which rarely—if ever—happened. Jack and Louis had gotten into a literal, bloody brawl. Louis had gotten in a fight, something he'd never once done in his life, and it had been with his oldest and closest friend. And for what? This was out of control. What the fuck was happening to him? How much worse was he going to get?

And then there was Jack. She'd seen Jack on the brink of fighting a few times, mostly in a Quidditch sense, but he's always restrained himself. He was good about keeping his composure; after all, wasn't that why he'd been made captain over her? She was the one who flew off the handle and doled out the curses and kicks. He was the one who held her back. For him to have hit Louis...well, she honestly couldn't think of a scenario where that would have made sense. That's how far-fetched this all seemed.

"Longbottom dragged them both down here," Sarah continued after a lull. "I'd told him that Louis had started it and that the whole common room saw what happened, but he told me he would take care of it. It wasn't until a few minutes ago that I got called down here. He's asked me to wait outside until he's ready for me. Then you walked up."

"Fuck," Dominique said, wishing more than anything that she could walk into that office right now and be a fly on that wall. "I wonder if Jack is ok. How much trouble is he going to be in?"

Sarah smirked a little as she sat back down. "That's the first time I've ever seen your concern not go straight to Louis."

"Oh, my concern for Louis is through the roof right now," she muttered. "But it has nothing to do with this and everything to do with how he's been acting lately."

Sarah was shaking her head. "Nic, you should have seen how angry Louis was."

"I wish I would have," she said. "Because had I been there, you and Jack wouldn't have had to deal with it."

"Had you been there, you two would have probably murdered each other," Sarah said. "And I think Jack would have been in the same spot he's in now trying to break things up. If he's trying to get Louis to back off me, he'd have done it for you."

Dominique sat down beside her. "Jack knows I can handle my brother."

"But that wasn't the Louis any of us are familiar with."

A silence fell between them as Dominique hung her head and once again let the events Sarah had recalled play out in her mind. This was getting out of hand. This was...she didn't know what this was anymore.

They sat outside of Flitwick's office for another ten minutes, waiting everything out in the hopes that...well, she wasn't sure. She wanted to see Jack and find out what had happened, but she also wanted to see Louis. She wasn't even sure he would talk to her considering she was the one he'd blamed in the first place, but she knew a confrontation between the two of them was inevitable. It may be less messy if it took place with Longbottom in close vicinity.

When Longbottom did open the door, he'd come to invite Sarah into Flitwick's office. Dominique caught no glimpse of Jack or Louis, though Longbottom was already giving her a once over as Sarah stood.

"Miss Weasley, we may be a bit, so while you're welcome to stay and wait out here, I would encourage you to catch up with your friends later."

Sarah threw her a quick look, as if to say she'd find her when she could, and disappeared into Flitwick's office. Longbottom nodded at her before disappearing himself, the door snapping shut behind him.

Dominique wasn't used to being left out of the drama; even though she knew she had no place here, she desperately wanted to know what was going on. She stared at that large door that was now separating her from everyone else, though her gaze quickly drifted to the bench seat she'd just been sitting on.

She could so clearly remember sitting there with Jack months ago, coffee in hand and exhausted after spending the entire night worried about Louis on that mountain during the first task. Sarah had been in tears. Jack had been pacing the room. They'd been so worried. And now here they were—her standing there realizing how troubled her brother was, Jack having punched him in the face, and Sarah ready to paint him as someone who'd cracked and gone mad in the middle of the common room.

It was rather terrifying how quickly everything could change.


	23. Unmovable Rock

The story of the Gryffindor common room fight had naturally circulated throughout the school at lightning pace. By dinner that evening, the witnesses all seemed to have some version to tell those who hadn't seen what happened. Rumors were running rampant, with some people latching onto the theory that Sarah was trying to sabotage Louis' new relationship; others said Jack and Louis were fighting over something that had to have happened with Dominique.

No one who wasn't in their inner circle knew the exact details, but it did get out that Louis and Sarah had hooked up after the ball. Once that became widely known, people seemed to start putting together a weak version of what they assumed had happened. Most people were more interested in the fact that Jack had apparently bashed Louis' face in—because that's what everyone was saying.

That rumor held water because no one saw Louis after it happened; he'd been sent to the hospital wing on Professor Longbottom's orders, which made Dominique wonder just how badly Jack had damaged Louis' face if it required an extended stay there. But after speaking to Professor Longbottom after the fact, she was happy to hear that his request had actually nothing to do with Louis' nose and everything to do with his mental state.

"Professors McGonagall and Flitwick are currently with him," Longbottom had told Dominique after he'd found her on her way to dinner. "I caught her up to speed and she took matters into her own hands. I've also owled your parents and I'm currently waiting to hear back from them. We all feel it best that Louis be admitted to the hospital wing until we can properly get a grasp on what's happening here. Given what you've told me, and the stories I've heard from Mr. Ians and Miss Kirke, as well as speaking to Louis first hand, it's clear something is wrong."

Dominique nodded. She'd wanted to ask him what he'd noticed specifically, but she didn't. She could only hope this was now the first step to getting him properly sorted out.

"Also, and I only just learned from Professor McGonagall upon her arrival back, but it seems Madame Maxime put in a request just this morning to have Louis barred from even approaching the Beauxbatons' carriage."

"She did?"

He was nodding. "Apparently, Miss Bellamy doesn't feel comfortable around him and made the request herself. Professor McGonagall didn't have time to elaborate on the details, though she felt it was a strange request. We've never known anyone to have a problem with Louis to the point where they felt he needed to be barred, but of course she agreed so Miss Bellamy would be granted peace of mind." He sighed. "Now that the Headmistress knows the entire story, she understands."

"But he did go there," Dominique said. "Because he'd told people she wouldn't see him. Did he know he wasn't supposed to visit?"

"He did," Longbottom said. "Professor McGonagall spoke to him this morning before the Quidditch match, but we know now he didn't listen. Upon asking him why he didn't listen, he gave a very typical response of someone under a love spell. Professor Holt has brewed a new cauldron of that original potion to help him function, while Professor Flitwick is currently very busy attempting to sort things out. Hopefully, we've got things under control now."

' _Hopefully,_ ' he'd said, which left room for doubt and uncertainty. There was no guarantee they would be able to sort Louis out, but Dominique knew now that he had a far better shot now than when she'd been the one trying to keep him in check. She was starting to learn that nothing—not a thing—was guaranteed any longer. When she started Hogwarts, she could remember thinking how the professors could fix anything. Now she knew better.

Longbottom had told her he would keep her informed and let her know if he heard from her parents. He'd left her standing just outside the Great Hall feeling a little lost. She was supposed to be eating dinner, but she wasn't hungry. She didn't even want to go back up to the common room because everyone was still talking about the fight and, consequently, staring at her or attempting to get information out of her. It had already happened earlier, once she'd returned to wait out Jack and Sarah while they'd been in Longbottom's office. She hadn't even gotten through the portrait hole before three people had rushed her, first asking if she'd heard what had happened before then following with questions as to why it had.

She'd retreated to her room to hide behind the curtains of her bed until she heard the sounds of her door opening and someone calling her name. When she'd pulled them back, she'd found Sarah standing in the doorway.

"What happened?"

"Longbottom just asked me what I saw," she said. "He had a few questions. He sent Louis to the hospital wing, but let Jack and me leave to come back here."

"Is he downstairs?" Dominique asked as she pulled herself off the bed.

Sarah nodded. Dominique barrelled past her and out the door, down the stairs into the common room, where she found Jack sitting with Flynn. Tommy and some of the sixth-years were standing around him, as if they'd rushed over to find out more about what had happened.

She and Jack immediately made eye contact and she'd noticed he did have a purple bruise under his left eye. It didn't look awful, but it did make her take—what felt like—her hundredth heavy breath of the day.

"You should have seen the other guy," Tommy said to her as she approached, her eyes never leaving Jack's face. He'd been the only one to speak and had clearly been attempting to lighten the mood. As usual, he missed the mark.

She sat down next to Jack, immediately inspecting his face as he turned to look at her. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head.

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He still didn't answer, but he did glance around at everyone else, as if signifying that he didn't as long as everyone else was here. Sarah got the hint and swatted Flynn; now suggesting that they could go work on Herbology some more—which he balked at. The sixth-years followed suit and dispersed, leaving both she and Jack alone.

He stared at her, his expression rather hollow. She smiled at him, but he didn't react. She reached out and let her hand rest on his thigh, giving him a rub. "Are you alright?"

"I broke my best friend's nose. Would you be alright?"

"You were defending yourself."

"I didn't have to fucking hit him," he muttered. "I could have taken him loads of other ways. I could have used a spell. Instead, I just...did it."

"Because he hit you," she said, reaching up to run her thumb gently over his bruise. "You may not have started it, but you had every right to finish it."

When he didn't respond, she added, "Sarah said he was reaching for his wand. You may be able to do more damage with your fists, but had Lou gotten his wand out, he could have..." She hesitated. She didn't know what Louis had planned on doing with his wand, but she knew he could do some serious damage.

He sat there letting her examine his bruise, his gaze never leaving her face as she did. "I didn't know if you'd be angry."

"With you?" She shook her head. "You did what you had to do." She lowered her hand and looked at him. "I wish I'd have been there. I'd have saved you and Sarah the trouble."

"There would have still been trouble," he muttered. "You didn't see him. He was unhinged. I wouldn't have let you take him on your own."

She smiled. "He's my brother. He doesn't scare me."

"You didn't see him," he repeated in a faraway tone. "Before today, I would have never thought I'd ever punch him in the face."

They fell into an odd sort of silence. She found herself watching her hand move on his thigh for several quiet moments. "Did you get in any trouble?"

He shook his head. "I didn't even get detention. Longbottom said something about knowing everyone is under a tremendous amount of stress. Emotions are high and people are lashing out. It's apparently common this time of year."

Dominique had to assume Longbottom was trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation given all the information he'd come to discover as of late, because this was clearly more than typical end of term stress.

"I think he understands Louis' going through some shit, just as you are," Jack said, causing Dominique to look at him. She hadn't had the chance to tell Jack everything she'd told Longbottom, so he was coming to this conclusion on his own. "He's a good bloke. He's not like Holt or Ivanson who just dole out punishments and don't care. He listens. He went easy on you after the Camp Out. He's going easy on Lou now because I think he knows detentions aren't going to do shit at this point. Louis needs more than that."

She looked away at that, nodding very slowly. "He does. He really needs help right now."

"I know he does," he said rather solemnly. "And instead of giving it to him, I punched him in the face."

The news that followed was that Louis would be sent to St. Mungo's, which ended up lasting for three days. It marked his second trip there—and his fourth visit to a hospital facility— in the last six month. Even Dominique couldn't get a straight answer out of anyone as to what was happening to him, though Longbottom continued to insist that he was being taken care of by people like Healer Cane. He'd said Professor McGonagall had reached out to the best people; the best Healers and experts in the subject of mind altering spells. He'd apparently been put into a sedated state so that his mindly could properly rest and be looked into.

She'd even gotten a letter from her father, who, along with her mother, had apparently gone and visited him. They'd spoken to McGonagall, and apparently—like Dominique—were being told that it was all under control and it was nothing to be too concerned with. He'd said Louis had looked good, and that the expert from the hospital expected to have the spell completely extracted from him any day now. That wasn't to say that it wouldn't have still left a mark on him in some way, but that remained to be seen.

She'd also gotten a long letter from her mother, seemingly irate that Louis' love spell had been basically ignored until now. She didn't seem to blame Dominique—which made her wonder how much of the story she actually knew—but she was livid with DiSilva for not reporting his findings accurately. By the tone of her letter, Dominique almost felt that her mother was seconds away from Portkeying to Beauxbatons herself to end him...if she hadn't already.

"Glad to hear he's doing well," came a voice that caused her to look up from her mother's letter, which she'd been reading in the Great Hall over breakfast. From beside her, Jack also looked up. Standing in front of the pair of them was Javier. He was now pointing to her head. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I'd actually walked over to ask if you'd heard anything about Louis."

She watched as he introduced himself to Jack, since they'd apparently never met. Once introductions were settled, Dominique folded up the letter from her mother's letter and said, "They're getting the spell out, I'm told. It's the best news I could ask for. I only wish I'd have said something sooner."

Javier was nodding. She still hadn't spoken much to him since his arrival, outside of informing him about Louis being sent off to the hospital in passing on the day she'd found out. He'd seemed surprised, but hadn't said anything more about it. He'd merely asked to keep him posted if anything happened.

"We really should have said something," Javier finally said. "DiSilva's fucking brilliant, but spell damage isn't his area of expertise. He's a Legilimens. There were probably loads of other people who should have dealt with Louis before him. I guess I just assumed too much of him."

Dominique stared at him. "I see that now. I'm still not quite sure why I put all my eggs into his basket. He couldn't even figure out the problems he'd saddled me with for the rest of my life. The stuff I'm going to have to live with forever."

Javier looked at her, and she didn't have to be a mind reader to realize what he was thinking. She'd completely come to accept that she was now stuck the way she was; that there was no going back. There was possible growth and there was working through things, but there was no easy fix. This was the new her.

"I was really hoping he could have helped you," he said, "Truly."

She shrugged. "I was, too. I was more hoping he could have helped my brother."

Javier sighed. "Last I read him, his head was unrecognizable. It was as if the different spells and damage, combined with the potion's withdrawal caused him to…" He sighed. "He'd gone off the rails."

"So, you saw him that day?" Jack asked, speaking up now.

He nodded. "I was the one who told him he couldn't come near the carriage. Amalie knew he was off his potion. She'd arranged with our chaperone, who talked to Madame Maxime, to keep him away because—unlike back at our school—she really has nowhere to go and nowhere to avoid him. She refused to see him. But then I saw him coming and I tried to cut him off, make him come walk with me.

"He was already angry when I saw him, very heated. He said he needed to see Amalie and needed to tell her how much he loved her; to ask her how she felt. But I told him he couldn't. She didn't want to see him. I think given how mad he looked, I ended up sort of shouting it at him to get through to him."

He looked across the room. "That made him more angry. He immediately started asking if this had to do with his ex, and whether Amalie had found out about them. I knew what he was talking about because I'd heard his ex that morning yelling at him in the Great Hall, but I wasn't sure why he jumped to that conclusion. He kept yelling that it wasn't true and that I needed to tell her that. He needed to see her."

His face grew concerned. "It was bad. All I did was keep saying he had to go. She didn't want to see him and he needed to accept that." He sighed. "But you can't argue with a spell. I don't know why I tried.

Dominique nodded. "You're not the only one who's tried."

He was nodding slowly before looking her in the eyes. "He's really fucked up right now."

"I know," she said. "Trust me, I know."

While everyone who was in-the-know seemed happy that Louis was getting proper help, Dominique wasn't sure what version of her brother she was going to get when he got out of the hospital. She wasn't optimistic that all of her problems were to be solved and that he would be back to his regular, previous self. Life wasn't neat and clean like that. While she hoped that something could be done about his love spell and the controlling nature it had on him, it still didn't eliminate all of the other issues that had since popped up. She'd realized that she was never going to be the same; why should she expect him to be?

She only knew that she didn't want to fight with him. The old her would have craved the drama and the confrontation, but the person she was today wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted to have her brother back; she wanted to be boring and focus on her exams and get through the next—and arguably the most important—week of her school career; she wanted to live out her last memories of Hogwarts with her friends in a normal, typical fashion.

But nothing about this year had been typical to date. Why would things change now?

Even with everything happening, when the time came, she threw herself into her exams and their preparation. She read over her notes and her revisions, she practiced her spell work, she helped her friends—even Flynn—with theirs, and when she walked into her first exam—Transfiguration—on Monday morning, she felt more prepared than she'd ever been in her entire life.

She'd been rather terrified once she'd been instructed to pick up her quill and begin the written part of the exam. She couldn't help but play Longbottom's conversation with her over in her head now; how good N.E.W.T. scores could open doors for the Weasley name alone wouldn't have. She needed something to show for her years of schooling if she ever hoped to land any sort of career in life.

She'd started at her test booklet for the first minute—not even bothering to open it until she noticed Lira Chin sitting catty-corner to her and scribbling fiercely into her own booklet. It snapped her out of her anxious daze, and she found once she actually tried, she was surprised to see she knew the material. The information was pouring out of her; her essay was...decent; the answers came to her quickly. By the end, she felt as if she'd done well; she'd even finished before everyone other than Ansel Baileymoore.

All of her exams were turning out like that. The written parts seemed easy; the practical applications weren't nearly as nerve-racking as she'd assumed. Her Charms proctor had been the nicest woman alive and had even commended her memory for some of the more obscure things she'd asked for. Her Transfiguration proctor had even smiled at her—and she discovered later from others that he'd been as cold as ice to many of them.

She knew her Runes. Astronomy hadn't seemed difficult. Defense Against the Dark Arts had even been a bit fun to demonstrate some of her spells. She'd felt good about her performances; there was nothing she couldn't handle. She knew she was fortunate in that respect; that it shouldn't have been that easy for her, but she was determined not to feel bad about it. This was her new normal after all; she felt certain of that now. She'd simply gotten lucky in the timing—if anyone could call it luck.

Her friends didn't feel so confident. Sarah swore up and down that she'd completely botched her Potions' written exam, which would ruin her life because she needed at least an "E" to be considered to work in the department she wanted at the Ministry. Flynn was now walking around claiming he'd be lucky to get three N.E.W.T.s when all was said and done. Natalie said she legitimately blacked out on her Charms exam because she couldn't remember a single moment, but was quite confident in both of her Divination performances.

Jack had been similarly stressed, though he didn't say much one way or the other after he finished an exam. Every reaction was very much, "What's done is done" and "I can't change it now," so he didn't dwell. When his Herbology exam came midweek, Dominique—feeling confident enough in her Astrology knowledge—had decided to help him rather than cram more in for the following day herself. She'd even tried to make a bit of a fun game out of it.

"I'll take off a piece of clothes for every review answer you get right," she'd said as she sat across from him in his bed; books and parchment strewn between them.

He laughed. "How's that supposed to make me focus on Herbology? I hate that subject as it is. If you start taking your clothes off, I'm done."

She smirked as she read over his revision. "I wouldn't get ahead of yourself in thinking I'll be taking much off." She looked up at him. "I've read your notes. I think we'll both be safely studying Herbology for the rest of the evening." She tossed the pages over to him. "Thank Merlin, you're good at Quidditch."

He laughed once more while also muttering, "Shut it." With a tired sigh, he added. "At least ask some easy ones at first and let me think I'm making progress."

And while she had thrown him a few easy ones that allowed her to lose her socks and jumper, when she started throwing him more exam level questions, he'd gotten two wrong and forced her to put stuff back on. This back and forth continued until Dominique ended up sitting with one sock on and one sock off for a good ten minutes. After he'd gotten three in a row wrong, she'd actually resorted to reaching down into his own trunk and pulling out his own jumper to put on.

He managed to groan and laugh at the same time as he watched her pull it over her head. "Don't do that."

"Rules are rules," she said, now feeling particularly warm with all of the multiple layers. "Keep it up and I'll be wearing your blankets soon enough."

"I'm hopeless," he said with a lazy sigh as he tossed his book to the side. "Sometimes I wonder why I ever kept on with Herbology."

"You were doing fine with the herb identification, but you really need to work on practical applications for medicinal—"

The door to the room had opened then, causing both of them to turn and look. She'd been expecting Flynn to walk in, lamenting about how he was doomed to fail and would probably not be fit to be anything more than Filch's assistant, but she quickly saw that it wasn't Flynn at all. When her eyes landed on Louis standing there, she felt something drop into the pit of her stomach.

His face was still showing signs of the fight, with bruising and purple circles under his eyes. His nose looked surprisingly fine, no signs of permanent damage or crookedness. His eyes met hers first, though they slowly traveled over to Jack's before he placed his attention on his bed. He said nothing as he walked over to it.

She glanced over at Jack, noticing that he too was watching Louis rather tentatively. They shared a quick look as the air became rife with thick tension. No one was saying anything.

Louis was in his trunk now, looking for something inside. She and Jack continued to exchange silent glances, though she'd finally had enough and decided she wasn't going to let any of this go on for any longer. She tossed Jack's Herbology revision to the side and turned toward Louis' bed.

"You're back."

He didn't answer her. He continued searching through his trunk.

"Louis."

Still no answer.

"Will you at least tell me if you're ignoring me? Or whether I now have to worry your hearing's been affected, too?"

"I'm ignoring you."

Well, that was a start. She pulled herself up off of the bed and walked over to where he was still in his trunk. She wasn't even sure where to begin. What had happened to him? What had those experts done? Was he on any potions? Was the spell gone? She had so many questions, but she knew of at least one way to find out the most important answer.

"How's Amalie?" she asked.

No reaction. He didn't even look up. He was pulling out a small red book that looked familiar to her, though she couldn't place. He absently flipped through a few pages before shutting it and closing his trunk. He didn't even look at her as he stood and started walking over to his bed.

He hadn't smiled at Amalie's name. He hadn't gone on some long winded rant about how she was the most amazing girl he'd ever known; he hadn't even acknowledged her. He was busy flipping through the little red book. That...was fantastic. That was everything.

"They worked the spell out of you," she said with a small smile, though Louis still didn't react to her. She glanced back over to Jack, who was sitting up straighter and watching the entire display.

Louis had finally turned to look at her, but there was nothing she recognized in his familiar blue eyes. They were the same eyes she saw in the mirror every morning, only hers weren't framed by purple bruises.

"You're still angry with me, then," she said, cutting through the silence. "Look, I understand I lied to you, but you were impossible to reason with while you were under that spell—"

"I'm ignoring you because I want to," he said plainly and without any emotion. His gaze looked empty, as if someone had turned the lights out inside of him. She'd actually felt rather unnerved by his response. "I don't want to talk to you."

"You don't get to make that choice. Especially since we need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do."

"I don't want to talk to you," he repeated. "And I don't have to. This is my room; you can leave now."

She gaped for a second. Where did he get off thinking he could walk in here and start barking out orders?

"Since this is also my room," Jack said, speaking up, "she doesn't have to leave."

Louis looked over at him with a look that could have further frozen ice. He then settled back on her. "You're not supposed to be in here after curfew."

"Since when do we follow that rule?" Jack asked. "You've broken that rule a hundred times. We all have."

Louis shrugged. "We do now. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"What!?" she said, right as Jack said, "Are you serious? You're taking away points for that?"

"I'll take away more if she sticks around." He turned away from her. "Go away."

She glanced back at Jack, who was looking rather gobsmacked by the entire exchange. Louis so badly wanted her gone, to avoid speaking to her, that he was taking points away from his own house for a rule that absolutely no one ever followed. That was madness.

"Fuck it. Fine," Jack muttered, standing himself and grabbing his books. "We'll go to the common room."

"That is what it's for," Louis snarked in an obvious way. It caused Jack to round on him, and they both started at each for what felt like a very charged minute. It had definitely passed the point of normal staring when Louis finally said. "Are you going to hit me again?"

Jack slowly shook his head. "I already did enough damage." With that, he grabbed the rest of his study materials and breezed past Dominique toward the door. "Come on, Nic."

Louis had gone to his bed and was already drawing the curtains around them as she started to follow after Jack. It wasn't until she'd reached the door that he had called out, "Don't worry, the final task is right around the corner. The way my luck's been going, maybe you'll be rid of me after that."

She stared at him from the doorway, her head already shaking. "Nobody wants that, Louis."

He didn't even acknowledge her. Instead, he pulled the curtains closed entirely.

* * *

Everything was ending. Quidditch, N.E.W.T.s, her classes, her sense of normalcy. For all intents and purposes, everything was done.

While the younger students were now preparing their annual exam week, everyone in their fifth and seventh-years were completely finished. They still had to attend classes—so as to not disrupt the flow of the school day for everyone else—but their professors were letting them do whatever they wanted.

Charms had turned into a class wide experiment into silly and experimental magic that Flitwick entertained them with. Ivanson and Fletchly would let them play cards and games. Holt was letting his potions students create elixirs of their own creation; the most creative or useful winning a prize. Longbottom was actually letting everyone out onto the grounds around the greenhouses to relax and soak up the nicer weather.

It was strange to be done; to have gone from a daily routine so tightly wound and hectic, to absolutely nothing. She'd had this luxury after taking O.W.L.s, but that was different. That was the end of one school year that would soon be followed by the next one. This time, it felt like the end. There would be no more late night study sessions or scrambling to find time to get essays finished. There would be no more desperate attempt to finish work over breakfast. Everything they'd spent the last seven years learning had come out in those exams. Everything was done.

Random Ministry people were starting to appear around the castle in more frequency, which meant the final task really was happening any day now. The rumor was that it would be held on Friday due to the way the professors set up their exam schedules. No one seemed to have any exams on Friday—which was strange—and with the term ending the following week, it couldn't possibly be delayed further.

And seeing as Louis was still refusing to speak to her—or anyone, really—he wasn't providing any insights as to when it might have been. Sarah claimed she'd overheard Zara mentioning needing to be prepared for Friday for some reason, and Longbottom had made an innocuous comment about being in touch with her parents for their visit later in the week. Everyone was rather convinced, though it took until Wednesday morning for anyone to make any official announcement that the final task would take place on Friday.

"When my mum was here," Dominique was saying to the group of them over dinner on that Thursday night—the eve of the task, "you could see the giant hedge maze they'd grown for the final task. Everyone sort of knew what to expect. This time, there's nothing."

"You'd mentioned there was an underwater task," Sarah said. "Maybe it will be something like that?"

"I was hoping for dragons," Flynn sulked.

Dominique rolled her eyes. As obnoxious as Louis had been, she still did not want him to get eaten by a dragon. Though, given his mood lately, perhaps the dragon would be the one who needed to worry.

Louis had stayed up in his room, behind drawn curtains, for most of the last few days. He did get up and go somewhere—perhaps on his walks with Javier—but whenever he was back in Gryffindor Tower, his room is where he remained. Jack had tried to talk to him repeatedly, only to get little to no response. Flynn had more luck, but that was probably because Flynn had nothing of substance to talk about, which Louis apparently responded to. When Dominique asked Flynn what they'd spoken about, the answer had been music—and a conversation about fart jokes.

"I heard a rumor there would be broom flying involved," Eleanor offered. It caused everyone—Dominique, in particular—to stare at her.

"Who told you that?"

"Ansel mentioned something about it," she said. "He says his uncle knows someone who knows someone who knows someone—"

"That's a lot of someones," Jack mumbled.

"Well, they apparently had some information," she continued. "It's only a part of it, though. Not the whole task. He doesn't know what else there is."

"Baileymoore just enjoys hearing himself talk," Dominique muttered; when Eleanor shot her a look, she added, "You know it's true."

"Well, so do you," Eleanor countered.

"I wouldn't necessarily believe Baileymoore," Jack said. "But I will say that if there's flying involved, Zara's going to crush each and every one of them. She's amazing on a broom."

"And Javi—who's in second place—does not fly," Dominique added, "Mentioned it to me when I was in France. I don't remember hearing anything about the others."

"But Louis can fly now," Flynn said. "Can't he?"

"He's got the ability, but none of the training," Dominique said. "I guess he's better off than he was, but—" She shrugged. "Jack's right. No one is touching Zara."

"Almost seems a bit too convenient," Flynn said. "That the task would play to one of Zara's strengths. I thought McGonagall was supposed to be above stacking the deck in Hogwarts' favor like the other schools were doing?"

"It's not as if this task hasn't been planned for ages," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. "No one could have known Zara would be in first place."

"But they knew she was in the tournament."

"So, you're saying someone in charge took a chance on Zara, not Louis, and decided to work the task around her? That makes sense to you?"

"Eleanor said it was rumored to only be a part of it," Flynn argued. "Maybe the other half caters to Louis?" He glanced around. "What are his strengths these days?"

"Shouting at people?" Sarah offered. "Sulking?"

"Hiding behind bed curtains and blaring terrible music?" Jack added.

"I don't know. I kind of like Vraa," said Flynn.

Dominique shook her head at the group of them before muttering, "Stop." While she understood everyone's frustrations with Louis lately—she had them as well—it didn't feel right to make light of them. She knew that somewhere, inside that head of his, he was still in there. It was just going to take patience and time to get him back to something close to what it was.

"She's right," Jack said with a heavy sigh. "This isn't even worth discussing. We're basing this off a rumor from Ansel Baileymoore." He made a face. "Look at the source."

"What's wrong with the source?" Eleanor protested.

After dinner, they found themselves back in the common room, where the atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful. Friends and groups were spread out throughout every corner, enjoying their new freedom from homework and looming exams. The older students naturally had spread themselves over the best sofas in the center near the fireplace. Flynn and Tommy had started challenging each other to some random game of questions, which naturally meant it was an incredibly stupid game.

"Wildest place you hooked up with someone here at school?" Flynn asked him. "Has to be more than kissing. Some bits have to have been at least partially exposed."

"On the lake shore, but it was in December," Tommy offered. "That's what made it wild. Fucking freezing. Do not recommend it."

"With who?" asked Flynn.

"That wasn't the question," Tommy said, casting a glance over to his friends, which included Kenley and his roommate, Benji.

"It was not me," Kenley said immediately. "So, you all can stop looking at me like that. I would never."

"Never try somewhere risky?" asked Flynn,

She scoffed. "No, never do anything like that outside in December. I've done risky. The restricted section of the library, for one."

That earned her a few impressed sounding, "Woahs" and one, "How did you even get back there?" Tommy was wrinkling his face up in confusion, now clearly attempting to wrap his head around that comment. "With who?"

"That wasn't the question," she said, repeating it back to him.

"Then it must have been Madam Pince," he said to her. "Otherwise, I'm not seeing how else you'd even be allowed in there." She immediately threw him an exasperated look.

"Is the prefects' bathroom considered risky?" Sarah asked. "Because around here, that's probably the most interesting place I've got."

"Eh," Flynn shrugged. "You weren't the first. You won't be the last. I'm going to say no."

"Benji swears he's got a handjob in the Charm's corridor in the middle of the school day," Tommy said, which—other than seeming impossible given how well-traveled and exposed that corridor was—Benji now looked as if he wasn't about to own up to that. "And Nicki's probably checked off most of the Quidditch arena."

While not untrue, she still threw him a look that screamed, " _Fuck off_."

"I figure Jack could probably check off a few spots around there these days, too," Tommy added as he glanced over at him. "Would you at least admit that the times you were late to practice earlier on was because you two were off fucking around? You weren't fooling anyone. I just want to hear you say it."

Jack smirked at him, looking perfectly fine to not have to answer his question. He did nothing more than shrug.

"You're an arse, you know that?" Tommy said.

"My question," Kenley asked, looking straight at Dominique. "Did you ever...on the pitch?"

She shook her head. "Never there."

"I feel you need to make that happen," Tommy said, though he was glancing between Jack and Dominique. "It's the top of the mountain. You can't not go for the gold. It's not as if they can suspend you."

"Yeah, and it's not as if you have anywhere else to go," Flynn joked. "Seeing as Louis' gone and made sure Nicki can't even be in our room."

That was true. With Louis posted up in the boys' room all the time, it made it next to impossible for her to be up there. Even during the hours she was permitted to be there, it wasn't as if she and Jack could do anything other than talk. Louis being there was an obvious deterrent, but even if they didn't care and still went about their business, he could get them into trouble for something as simple as kissing. These were the rules no one really paid attention to, but he was suddenly following them to the letter. She knew he was doing it on purpose; he wanted to piss her and Jack off so that they would avoid him.

"He's so bloody petty," Sarah muttered.

"It's strange because petty wasn't a word I'd have used to describe Louis before any of this," Flynn said as he looked back at Dominique. "You, sure, but not Louis."

"I was never _that_ petty," she said.

A strange silence fell over the group, with everyone avoiding her gaze except for Sarah. She was looking at her as if she was daft for even suggesting it. Dominique even turned to look at Jack, noting that he was making a face that clearly said he wouldn't necessarily agree with that. He was just clever enough not to say it out loud.

"You can all piss off."

The chatter carried on for most of the night; the energy of the room bouncy and animated as people came and went. There was a definite excitement in the air with the tournament looming tomorrow. Many people probably wouldn't even sleep much that night.

Dominique tried to take it all in as best she could, seeing as this time next week, she could no longer do any of this. Sure, she could sit around with her friends while talking and laughing, but it wouldn't be the same, Here in this common room, they were all forced into this moment; it would never be like this again. Eventually, their group would slowly start to pull apart; they'd make new friends and eventually stop seeing each other. That's what everyone always said.

As she looked around, she felt she and Sarah would probably keep in touch. Flynn would disappear eventually, as would most of the others. She had no plans for Jack to go anywhere, but who knew what ideas the universe held. There was still a very good chance he would move away for Quidditch, and she still wasn't sure if she could handle that. If they had to break up for some reason, they would probably drift apart as well. She wanted to be with him, but she could only take things one day at a time.

Then Louis. She never, ever, would have thought she'd have to consider the shape of their relationship, but she honestly didn't know anymore. It was beyond strange to be sitting with her friends—their friends—in the common room and he wasn't a part of it. It had been one thing when he was off in another country, but he was upstairs. He was doing nothing more than being petty and avoiding everyone because he didn't want to be around them.

He'd always been the social one, whereas she'd started out their Hogwarts' journey hiding away behind bed curtains avoiding people. It had been Louis who had pulled her out of her shell. He'd let her tag along and included her, even when she'd felt out of place. Yes, he did eventually tire of her and push her to make her own friends and have her own life, but that had also been a good thing. She'd needed to do that. Once she had, they met back in the middle and picked up where they left off.

She glanced at the stairs of the boys' dormitory. Tomorrow was the final task, and she wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to him and she'd spent the entire evening sitting downstairs. He may not want to talk to her, but she needed to talk to him. She didn't know what she would say or whether he would even bother to listen, but she had to try.

She stood up. Tommy had been in the middle of some story she'd been barely paying attention to; Jack gave her a quick look to acknowledge her exit, but said nothing as he returned to Tommy. She was happy about it; she really didn't want to have to explain herself. She also didn't want to have to tell him she had to do this on her own when he inevitably offered to come with her.

She headed up the stairs that led to the seventh-year boys' room. The door was shut entirely, which made something knot anxiously in her stomach. It was the normal kind of anxiety though, not the debilitating kind. There was something comforting about the fact that Louis' behavior still hadn't managed to make her that anxious. She had to believe that meant all was not lost.

She took a deep breath and knocked. When there was no answer, she opened it for herself.

A familiar scene greeted her. Jack's bed on the left, Louis' in the center—with the curtains drawn—and Flynn's over to the right. There was music, the awful sounds of Vraa blaring from his radio. She had hoped the Nymph Chasers concert would have shaken that out of him, but it seemed that was just a flash of a moment. The angry sounds of Vraa were now the common place.

She stood there, wondering what she should do. Any other time in history, she would have marched right up, pulled the curtains back and poked her head right in. That didn't feel right anymore. She hated that it didn't feel right anymore.

"Louis," she finally said, forcing herself to sound more confident that she felt. A part of her was genuinely nervous for what version of her brother she was going to get.

The noise didn't stop. She'd wondered if he was ignoring her or he genuinely couldn't hear her, so she called his name again more forcefully this time. When the music stopped, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He pulled the curtain back on his bed and looked straight at her. He gave the room a quick once over—she had to assume to see if she was alone—before settling back on her. He didn't say anything; he just stared at her.

She didn't know what else to say other than, "Hi."

"What…?" he said, sounding confused. He clearly wanted to know what she was here for.

She again didn't know quite what to say, but with a heavy breath, she managed a lame sounding, "What are you doing?"

"Nic, what do you want?"

"To talk to you."

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"Louis, if this is about the lying, if I could have told you, I would have. I wanted to. You refused to listen to anyone."

"This isn't about anything. I just don't want to talk to you."

"But why?"

"Because I don't want to?" He sat up in bed and looked at her. "Why do I have to want to talk to you?"

He was speaking so calmly, so emotionless, which rattled her most of all. If he was angry or upset, at least that would have meant there was some feeling in his words; some passion. Everything he was saying now was so cold and detached. She wasn't aware words could hurt when spoken so vacantly until this minute.

"Because it's me," she finally managed to say. "When have we ever not…?" Shit, she suddenly felt as if she was going to cry. "Because we're us."

"There's isn't an 'us'," he muttered. "We're adults now, we don't have to be a fucking set. I haven't wanted to be part of a set in a long time. I just want to be me."

"Who said anything about a bloody set?" she said, finding some of her anger now. "I say we're 'us' because we're 'us', Louis. And you know exactly what that fucking means, so don't pretend you don't."

He sighed in a tired way, his eyes still scanning the ceiling. She already knew what he was thinking; he wanted to escape. She was not letting him out of this that easily.

"You're not escaping this."

"Escaping what?" he said. "I've already told you I don't want to talk to you. There's nothing to escape."

"Louis, your spell damage—"

Fuck!" he said suddenly, sounding aggravated. "This is why I don't want to talk to you! Everything about you lately is talking about spell damage or telling me how much of a fuck up I am. I'm sick of it! I get it. I'm a fuck up. I huge fucking, fuck up. I skip my exams, I make a fool of myself under some spell! I don't shit rainbows and sunshine. I fucked it all up! I don't need my fucking sister reminding me every time I fucking look at her!"

That had been a lot of 'fucks'. Far more than she was used to hearing out of his—or anyone's mouth. She tried not to let it distract her and decided to cut straight through to get to the point. "Louis, that's...this isn't about being a fuck up. It's not your fault. It can be helped. If you'd only talk to someone and—"

"I don't need fucking help! I need to be left alone! I need to get the fuck away from everyone who have these expectation I didn't live up to. Fucking up the tournament, my relationships, my friendships, my life—I need people to stop acting as if they know what I need." He looked directly at her. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Oh, please," she said, pulling an absolute face. "I literally had my mind cloned because of how well I know you. I was sent to France to help because of how well I know you. I lost parts of who I am because of how well I—"

"And you'll never let me hear the end of that, will you!?" he snapped. "That's another reason I can't be around you anymore. Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of how much I ruined your life. No matter how many times I say I'm sorry, or that I'd take it all back if I could, nothing will ever change the fact that it's my fucking fault."

She found that part to hit her in her feelings rather hard. Did he really think that? That he'd ruined her life? Perhaps she'd felt things had been ruined at one point, but she was trying to work on that. She was taking steps to right that.

Her tone softened. "No, Lou, stop. That's not—I don't blame you—"

"Yes, you do!" he yelled back. "You've said as much! You can try and pull this 'I don't blame you' bullshit all you want, but I know you do. I will never be allowed to say shit to you again because you'll forever remind me that I fucked up your life." He paused and laughed rather humorlessly. You just did it!"

She stared at him. She had just done it, hadn't she? She didn't even realize it when she'd said it. How had they even gotten to this point? Did he actually feel this way? That he was a fuck up who'd ruined her life? Ruined his?

"Louis, I don't think my life is ruined."

"Good for you," he said coldly.

"I'm working on coping, which is all I want for you—"

"I don't need you to want things for me. I told you, I'm fine."

"You just sat there ranting about being a fuck up."

"Maybe I'm fine with being a fuck up," he countered. "It's a nice change of pace after being so bloody perfect for so long. There are a lot less expectations."

"No one ever thought you were perfect."

He started at her, his gaze growing callous. "Bollocks. Even you—as much as you deny it—had insane expectations for me."

"Because you made everyone think that's what you wanted!" she argued. "I was supporting what I thought you wanted!"

"Well, either way, all of that is gone now," he said. "Everything I wanted, everything I thought I wanted. I lost everything."

"No, you didn't," she again argued. "You've still got your family. Your friends—"

"Like hell I do! My best friend broke my fucking nose!"

"Because you hit him first!" she said. "Had you not come at him—!"

"Fuck this," Louis muttered turning away. "I'm not touching that. You've clearly chosen your side there—"

"Yeah," she yelled back, "You know what? You're bloody well right I've chosen my side. I'm going to choose the person who isn't pushing me away and telling me he can't be around me because he wants to feel sorry for himself."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Good for you, then," he said sarcastically. "Glad you got your happy ending. You got everything else out of me, why not take my best friend, too."

She glared at him. Bloody fucking hypocrite. She wasn't even going to let him make her feel bad about that, even if he tried. "We've both lost things in that task, Louis, but you need to stop acting as if what's happened since isn't your own doing. You're pushing everyone away."

"Guess I did," he said with a small smirk. "What can I say? I'm a fuck up now."

She wanted to curse him, and she hadn't wanted to curse anyone in a long time. Right now, that all too familiar urge was coming right back to her. She had to fight it, though. He was doing it on purpose. He wanted to drive her away.

"And to act as if you lost everything," she continued, "when you're still more clever than the majority of wizards." She shook her head. "You could do whatever you wanted! Any career you'd like—"

"This isn't about a bloody career!" he barked. "And that's exactly what I'm trying to fucking say. You think you know me so well, but you have no idea. Your head goes straight to what's the next step for me to get me back up on that bloody pedestal; to get things back to normal. You want me to talk to someone so that I can go back to the safe, agreeable, always perfect person everyone wants so badly, but I'm tired of that shit. I don't want that normal anymore."

She blinked at him. She had never been so confused in her life. "What do you want?"

"I want to escape it all. I want you to leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that. You're my brother."

He made a face. "And Vic's your sister, but you're not up her arse like you are with me."

"Vic isn't you," she said, noticing how low the volume in her voice had become. "You know it's different with us. It always has been. You're my best friend."

He was looking up at the ceiling again. "Things change. I can't be around you right now. I can't keep being judged. Being lied to. I can't keep feeling guilty every time I look at you. It's not as if we're going to spend the rest of our lives attached at the hip. We've got another week here and then we're off to live our own lives. You've got to get it out of your head that we're forever a package."

She glared at him. Was she supposed to apologize for having some preconceived notions about how their relationship would play out over the years? They were best friends, and while she knew they couldn't forever be the pair they'd always been, she'd expected them to continue to have a strong relationship. Her vision had incorporated them going off to get jobs and have lives and perhaps even families of their own—but like her father and most of his siblings, they would always be close. They would connect on the regular and their kids would grow up as friends. That was what was supposed to happen.

"Just leave me alone," he said, reaching up to shut his curtain once more.

"You're not going to rest until you've destroyed every relationship you have, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…"

"I'm not taking the piss, Louis," she said, staring back at him. "You had everyone on your side and you've driven them all away. Even me, the unmovable rock that I have always been for you—that was always willing to be for you—you don't give a shit."

"You want to handle your new life your way, and I want to handle mine my way," he said. "I just want to live the way I want to for once. Without complications or judgments or expectations."

"Or anyone who cares about you," she said, taking a step backwards. "And if that's what you want, then fine. Hide away. Sulk. Be an arsehole. Because the sad part is that you're going to do all of this and then one day realize you fucked up. And I'll be the idiot still willing to forgive you because I love you and I already miss you." She could feel the tears now coming. "I'm the stupid fucking rock."

She knew then—for sure—that she wasn't dealing with the Louis she knew any longer because he would never let her stand there and cry. He'd have said something; done something to keep it from happening. But the Louis in front of her did nothing. He just stared at her.

"I hope you win the bloody tournament," she said, between heaving breaths before she turned to leave. "Because then, at least, you'd have something to show for the rest of your life going to shit."


	24. Flags and Tents

The sky was cloudy and overcast; the air cool on the day of the final task. The grounds of Hogwarts had changed almost overnight to accommodate the visitors that were now entering through the gates and buzzing about the grounds. Ministry officials, important foreign dignitaries, family members, and students–all of whom were being directed to specific spots to congregate.

There were numerous flags and banners displaying the Hogwarts' crest, as well as the various house colors. Tents had been set up sporadically, and seating was now covering a very particular corner of the grounds near the lake. There was even a stage now present with an even larger banner with the Hogwarts crest posted up behind it. The only thing that wasn't immediately present were any signs of what the task was. That still remained a complete mystery.

Dominique stood up at the courtyard, looking down at the display below and at all the people with little interest. Everywhere around her, her peers continued to pour past her as they made their way to the action; all of them excited and taken by the infectious atmosphere of the occasion. On the contrary, she did nothing more than lean back against a stone column and watch. She had very little desire to be here. She had even less of a desire to see how this all played out. She'd said it from day one: this tournament destroyed people's lives.

She hadn't slept the night before, though it had nothing to do with any of her usual reasons. Her mind was entirely on her brother. She'd thought endlessly about what he'd said about her wanting him to fit on some sort of pedestal she and everyone else apparently felt he belonged on; how they only cared about getting him back to normal so that they could have the familiar version of him back. He'd made it sound so selfish of her, as if he wouldn't have benefited from the familiar, too. When had he decided he wanted something different so badly? And why hadn't she picked up on it?

And she'd eventually realized it was because they weren't a set anymore. They hadn't truly been for ages, but they really hadn't been in the last few months. Outside of their time spent at Beauxbatons sharing a bus, they hadn't even spent much time together this year. He'd been away; she'd been here. Yes, they'd had their moments, but it was nothing like it had been in the past. Not even close. The irony of them sharing each other's memories and secrets, but yet being the most distant they'd ever been from each other, was not lost on her.

Even if all of those awful things hadn't happened to him-to them-Louis was already changing. He'd seen other places and met new sorts of people. He'd escaped the small bubble of Hogwarts and life being a Weasley and he'd apparently liked what he found. He'd changed his career aspirations and future plans on what she'd assumed was due to his spell damage, but perhaps it had more to do with him just wanting to discover things other than a stuffy Ministry job. It wasn't that far-fetched an idea-after all, her mother had done the exact same thing. A few months at Hogwarts and a chance meeting with her father, and she'd picked up her entire life in France and come to England.

The signs had been there. She'd assumed that he'd spent all of his time hanging around the Beauxbatons' carriage because the love spell was pulling him there, but Amalie even admitted he spent most of his time walking and smoking with Javier by the lake. The fact that he was smoking at all should have been a sign. He was different. He was connecting with new people, and perhaps, had been inching away from this Hogwarts life longer than she'd thought.

She'd even let herself fall so deep into her theories about the matter that she'd pondered whether he'd actually been so cool with her and Jack getting together because he was already making plans to move onto other things and people in life.

But these were mostly assumptions. Clearly, even if this was the way he'd been thinking lately, it was all exacerbated and driven to a darker place by the spells and the damage and...her. She'd fucked up. It had taken professionals a few days to draw that spell out of him, and most of that had been because it had been so hard to find. Had she just fucking said something…This could have been over in days, but she let it go on for months. She'd been convinced it was such a secret-something shameful he'd been burdened with that she needed to protect him from-that all she'd done is make everything worse.

Then she'd lied about it, she'd betrayed him, and then she'd yelled at him because she was-how had Louis put it the night of the bonfire when he'd lectured her?-incapable of saying she was sorry when she fucked up? Unable to admit that she was wrong?

Just when she thought she'd been getting better at that...

She was starting to accept that she could have potentially ruined her entire relationship with her brother beyond repair. She hoped she hadn't. She hoped to apologize and, with a little time and space, he'd hopefully come around and be willing to forgive. Because losing Louis' trust felt like losing not only one arm, but two. Life seemed so much harder to navigate through now. He was the person she-without a doubt-counted on most, and she'd fucked it right up in a way she never thought possible.

And to think, she'd assumed her flying skills were the worst casualty to come out of all of this. She'd have given up her flying ten times over to have her brother willing to speak to her.

She sighed as she continued to watch the crowds back idly by toward the grounds. Her family was down there somewhere; she'd have to go and find them soon enough. She knew her mother was being swarmed by people and reporters wanting to talk to her about today and tournaments past. Her Uncle Harry and her Aunt Hermione were supposed to turn up as well, so they would take some of the pressure off of her mother. As far as she knew, most of her extended family would probably be there, but it all seemed a waste. Everyone would smile for the cameras and give happy sounding quips to the papers, despite the fact that they were all just as worried at what could possibly happen.

"Hey," came Jack's sudden voice as he appeared, now leaning up against the column alongside her.

"Hey," she mumbled, never taking her eyes off the crowds that continued to grow down below.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"No."

He sighed and pulled himself up off the column to face her. "I don't think Louis should even be doing this."

"I don't either, but clearly he doesn't want my advice," she said, "And no one else will step up since he entered a—" she made her voice sound purposely dumb, "— _magically binding contract._ " She let her voice return to normal. "I wish he'd never entered this bloody thing."

Jack threw her a sympathetic smile.

"This is all so fucking stupid," she said, pulling herself up off the column and taking the biggest breath she could muster. She released it very slowly.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

She nodded, already knowing what he was thinking and perhaps wondering if he needed to dash off to the hospital wing for her, but this was the normal sort of nerves. In an ironic bit of timing, Madam Pomfrey had presented her yesterday with several vials of her very own nightly anxiety potions to help her sleep and regulate. She'd received them from St. Mungo's on Cane's request, and Dominique had been happy to take them to finally have something more routine. Then, of course, she hadn't taken them last night because she'd been too preoccupied to sleep. She'd instead been forced to, once again, take some of the leftover Calming Draught that she'd had to get through the day.

"Good," he said as he reached out and pulled her toward him, burying her underneath his arms into a very warm hug. She hugged him back; they stood there for a minute, doing nothing more than hugging in silence before he finally pulled back and threw her an encouraging smile. "It's almost over."

She half smiled, more out of obligation than any genuine need to. It caused him to lean in and give her a rather goofy sort of kiss on her cheek, which–for whatever reason–pulled a real smile out of her. She even laughed a little.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading the way out of the courtyard and down the path toward the madness.

She did her best to stick close to him–almost as if hiding from onlookers. She'd done a pretty masterful job so far that morning of hiding from the questions and the people who wanted to see how she was holding up. Sarah and Natalie had brought her some breakfast in the room to keep her from having to visit the Great Hall, and she'd avoided the crowded bathroom that morning. There had been people in the common room and others in the corridors, but she'd thankfully done a good enough job throughout the years of making people not want to talk to her that most merely looked at her and continued on their way.

Now that she was exposed to the rest of the world, she knew she wouldn't be so lucky. She'd purposely put her relatively recognizable blonde hair up into a tight bun to make her a little less noticeable in the crowd, but she wasn't sure how much of a difference it would make. As it were, her best bet was to hopefully use Jack as a human shield; if she kept close to him, maybe people wouldn't notice that she was–

"Miss Weasley!" said a voice that she recognized, but couldn't immediately place. It made her jolt and squeeze Jack's hand as a small, balding man appeared from nearby with a large smile on his face. When she realized it was Timmith, she calmed almost instantly.

"Hi," she said, forcing a smile as he extended his hand to shake hers in an oddly formal way. He immediately did the same to Jack, who seemed confused as to who this small man was.

"Timmith Ableline," he said to Jack in an introductory way, glancing over at Dominique. She took it upon herself to further the introductions.

"Timmith was the chaperone and tutor while I was in Beauxbatons," she offered, gesturing toward him. She then gestured back to Jack. "And Jack is my boyfriend."

"Lovely to meet you!" Timmith said, now smiling at Dominique. "How have you been Miss Weasley? I've thought about you and your brother regularly since our last encounter. Was there any developments after what happened to the two of you?"

She and Jack exchanged quick looks before she said, "Definite developments."

"Did Professor DiSilva ever manage to–?"

"No, but I'm learning to live with it."

Timmith's face fell. "I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear it wasn't more of a simple fix. But it is comforting to hear you're not letting it get you down. May I ask how you felt your N.E.W.T.s went?"

"Actually, really well," she said, smiling a little. "Surprisingly well, I think. I suppose I have you to thank for some of that. You did teach me some focusing techniques that I ended up using once I got back here."

"Fantastic!" Timmith said. "Oh, that's so wonderful to hear. You showed so much potential and I'm glad you took advantage!" He quickly glanced around. "And how is your brother?"

The smile she'd had on her face definitely slipped. "He's..."

"Nervous for today?"

"Who wouldn't be?"

"You should never answer a question with a question, Miss Weasley," he said, managing to sound both good natured, but also highly annoying. "But yes, it's to be expected he would be. I'm hoping to see him and Miss Zabini before the start of the task to wish them luck."

"You should," she said. "He needs all the luck he can get."

Jack squeezed her hand, and she took that to mean they should keep moving. She nodded at him before telling Timmith she really should be going to find her family and wishing him goodbye. As they walked off, Jack threw her a funny sort of look, as if asking where on Earth that one had come from. She did nothing more than shrug and offer, "You get used to him."

It had taken some searching for her to spot any of her family, though she'd assumed that they were near the tented areas. It was up there that photographers were setting up and reporters were speaking to important people from the Ministry. Dominique immediately felt as if she recognized the mustached bloke who was standing with a small group of Prophet reports from her tour of the Ministry, knowing he was someone important, but she couldn't remember his name. She was, however, thankful he was distracting them and allowing her to pass right by.

It was then that she spotted Victoire emerging from a tent–her hair flying around in the wind that had just come up off the lake. Dominique had been seconds away from calling out to her, but she'd stopped once she'd seen who had followed directly behind her.

"Oh..." Dominique said quietly, watching as Whit and Victoire were now close enough to soon encounter, but not close enough to have noticed them yet. She'd known it was just a matter of time until this run-in had to occur, but she didn't know if she had it in her to deal with that on top of everything else at the moment.

Jack had seen Whit, too, though he didn't say anything. He didn't drop her hand, though she was contemplating doing it. While this was probably awkward for him, it was going to be far more awkward for her. Seeing your ex with his new girlfriend was bad enough. Seeing your ex with his new girlfriend who also happens to be someone you know and considered a friend?

She took a deep breath. "Should I go and say something?"

He didn't respond, but his expression clearly wondered if that was really necessary.

"If she's here with Vic and my family, we can't avoid her," she said, though it was her who dropped his hand. Despite the fact that they'd been split up over a year, Victoire had given her the impression that Whit hadn't taken the news particularly well. It was uncharted territory, but Dominique wasn't looking to be insensitive. Whit was her friend; she and Jack had dated for a while. The least she could do was not be a show off.

Her sister and Whit had spotted them, just as Dominique knew they would, though it was only Victoire who was now paying them any attention. Whit had actually stopped in her tracks before turning herself away. A moment later, she was walking in the opposite direction; leaving Victoire with nothing to do other than wave awkwardly at her.

"Hey," Victoire said, smiling at the pair of them as she approached. "Was starting to wonder where you were. Mum and dad have been asking about you."

"I was taking my time," Dominique said, glancing over her shoulder and gesturing in Whit's general direction. "So…?"

"She wanted to come and support Louis," Victoire offered. "I warned her what she'd run into. I told her it was an absolute certainty that she would see the two of you together if she came. She claimed to be fine with it." She pointed after her. "That was apparently 'fine with it'."

Dominique sighed.

"Here's hoping it was the initial shock and she'll come around," Victoire said as she glanced from Jack to Dominique. "And how are you? How's Louis feeling since he got back from the hospital?"

"I don't know," Dominique said. "He doesn't talk to us anymore."

"What do you mean he doesn't talk to you?" Victoire said, looking as if she'd never heard anything so stupid.

"He hates us now," Dominique offered rather coolly. She really didn't know how else to explain this.

"What? Why?"

Dominique sighed. "Where do I even begin?"

She proceeded to launch into the entire story for her sister, even the part she already knew. It was clear by her expression that Victoire had a very hard time believing any of it. Dominique was thankful to have Jack there to back up much of her claims because she was fairly certain Victoire wouldn't have believed her had it only been her word. She knew she'd had a history of being overdramatic and impulsive, but Victoire knew Jack to be the opposite of all of that. Their powers combined may have made for one legitimate sounding story.

"You were the one who hit him?" Victoire said to Jack once Dominique revealed that part of the story. "McGonagall told mum and dad that he'd gotten into an altercation with another student since the spell was making him act out."

"Meet the other student," Dominique said rather obviously, gesturing to Jack.

"But you?" Victoire asked, almost as if she was scolding him. "Since when do you hit anyone, let alone your best friend?"

"This is what I'm trying to tell you," Dominique argued, noticing Teddy approaching to join the group of them. "Louis isn't the Louis you know. When the spell was still in him and he'd gone off the potion, he was legitimately unhinged. Now that they've worked the spell out of him, he's just angry and wants nothing to do with any of us. He spends all of his time on his own. Won't talk to Jack, he only fights with me."

"Jack is the one who hit Louis," Victoire said to Ted once he stood beside her. It caused Ted's entire face to wrinkle up in complete confusion.

"He was defending himself," Dominique said. "Louis hit him first. And he was pulling out his wand."

"To do what?"

"Who knows?" Dominique said. "That's the point. No one knows what he's thinking!"

"I can't believe you two hit each other," Victoire said, "but it explains why he wants nothing to do with you."

Dominique felt her sister was focusing on the wrong things. She wasn't comprehending the seriousness of all of this, but then again, Dominique hadn't either. Not until it was too late, anyway.

"This goes beyond them brawling. He is not the same Louis you know any longer. He's a completely different person."

"He's dealing with a lot," Jack said. "I'm a little afraid of what will happen today in the tournament."

"And he really shouldn't be participating," Dominique added.

"It's a magically binding contract," Ted said, still looking confused since he'd missed the entire important part of the story. "He has to participate."

Dominique sighed as she and Victoire stared long and hard at each other for several moments. Victoire seemed completely confused; she clearly had no idea what to make of this story. Dominique couldn't even blame her—she wouldn't have believed it either.

"He and I had a huge row last night," Dominique continued, "and he told me all he wants is for everyone—me, especially—to piss off and leave him alone."

"I mean, Nic, he's clearly overwhelmed and anxious after everything that's happened to him," Victoire argued. "He probably just wanted time to focus and clear his head and you were bothering him."

Jack was already shaking his head while Dominique immediately began to reiterate, "No, it's not a 'give me a few minutes to clear my head' thing. It's a 'I need you all to disappear and leave me be.' He claims he's become a big fuck up and he's tired of people wanting things for he that he doesn't want."

"There's no way…" Victoire said, shaking her head and looking away. Dominique could sense in her tone that she was at least questioning things a bit, despite not wanting to believe it. "How is he a fuck up? If any of this is true, then you need to talk to mum and dad and tell them. They need to know if he's really in that bad a way."

"They'll see it for themselves when they spend more than five minutes with him! Just wait until you see him. You'll barely recognize him."

The crowds were growing larger now, with students and outsiders alike all buzzing about and getting themselves ready for the impending task. Along with the reporters and Ministry officials, other recognizable faces were now turning up. Zara's parents were currently being interviewed nearby; not far away from them, the man Dominique recognized from the hospital as Amalie's father was surrounded by a group of people who were all in good spirits. The Headmaster of Durmstrang was nearby with an entourage of people following behind him. A handful of her professors were now gathering near the staging area.

They'd followed Victoire back into one of the many tented areas; it was there that her parents, her grandparents, her _other_ grandparents, a collection of her aunts and uncles, and some of her cousins were all standing about and chatting in small groups. No one seemed to notice them enter until she managed to make her way over to where her parents were actively speaking to George and Angelina. They both smiled brightly when they saw her approaching.

"Hello, sweetheart," her mother said as she went to kiss her cheek. "Where have you been hiding?"

"I've been around," she offered, turning to hug her father before greeting her aunt and uncle. She then, before she'd had time to really process what was happening, found herself quickly being passed around the group from relative to relative. They were commenting on how exciting things were, how nice she looked, how mad it was for this to be ending, how they couldn't believe she and Louis were graduating.

It didn't seem to have an end, but she did eventually find her way back in front of her parents once she'd run the gauntlet of relatives. There were brief inquiries about her exams–both of them seemingly surprised and delighted to hear she felt she'd gotten ten—only to be followed by her mother asking, "Is Jack here?"

That was a good question. Dominique had lost him somewhere back when they'd entered and was now taking the time to search around the tent. She saw that he had hung back and was currently talking to Ted and Ginny on the other side of the room. Victoire, she noticed, was on the opposite side speaking to Whit.

"He's talking to Ted."

Her mother smiled rather warmly at her. "How are things with you two?"

She grinned and shrugged. "Good. I'm happy."

That answer seemed to please her mother as her father reached out and rubbed Dominique's shoulder. "That's all we ever want for you." He glanced around. "How was your brother holding up?"

This time when Dominique shrugged, she didn't smile.

"He hasn't said anything to let you know how he feels?" asked her father, a skeptical look in his eyes.

"I mean, he has…" She looked away. "But not about the tournament. We're not really speaking right now."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "I hope you're not fighting now, of all times, Dominique. You have to realize that he's under a tremendous amount of stress. He's been through so much, and to add a love spell on top of that." Her face tightened. "I cannot believe everything he's been forced to deal with. It's unconscionable." She then started muttering under her breath in rapid France.

"Trust me, I know," she said, just as quite a bit of commotion from outside the tent suddenly caught everyone's attention. Dominique noticed her Uncles Ron and Percy had stepped outside to see what was going on. After about thirty seconds, Percy returned to inform everyone that the champions were coming.

There was shuffling throughout the room as everyone seemed to be readying themselves, though Dominique stepped to the side to avoid the entire scene. She walked down to where Jack was standing and threw him an apprehensive look. She was already on edge because of the task that was about to happen and possibly cause further damage, but she was more scared for the Louis they were going to inevitably meet in a moment. No one but Jack seemed to understand.

When the door flap to the tent was pulled back, in stepped Louis. He was dressed in all black, with Hogwarts' crest affixed to the left side of his chest. Professor Longbottom had followed behind him, and the two were both greeted enthusiastically by the family.

However, Dominique was immediately most taken by the fact that Louis was...smiling. He was actually smiling and greeting everyone with hugs and handshakes, as if this was the Louis of old. His stupid, perfect smile was plastered on his face, the tone of his voice was light and airy, his mannerisms were confident. Even when he was asked what happened to his face by one of their aunts, he quickly brushed it off as nothing significant. "I had an accident, but it was nothing," he told the group with a modest shrug and quick laugh.

Dominique felt her face go slack. What. The. Fuck? She looked at Jack, who seemed just as confused. When their eyes met, neither seemed to know what to say. At least she knew she hadn't gone mad if Jack saw it, too.

He was charming and personable. He was having conversations in French with their grandparents; he was asking their Uncle Percy if the new Portkey regulations were giving him grief. He'd stopped to have a lengthy chat with their Aunt Hermione about her new appointment, and moved on to their Uncle George about rumors circulating about expansion of the joke shop. He seemed to have a thoughtful story and anecdote for everyone in there. It wasn't even as if he was acting like the old Louis–he was acting like the old Louis, but somehow ten times more charming.

He stopped to talk and laugh with Victoire, Ted, and Whit–which Dominique already knew was going to prompt a lecture from her sister later on about how he'd been perfectly normal and she'd been talking full of shit with all of her ramblings earlier. When he moved onto their parents, he was hugging them and letting their mother dote on him– push his hair back, straighten out his outfit, lecture him on all of her nervous concerns.

That was...strange? Even on a good day, Louis would have been uncomfortable with her fixing and straightening him like he was a small child. He'd have shooed her off and told her he was fine. But standing there right now, he wasn't even flinching. He was letting her do it.

He was listening intently to whatever it was their father was telling him, though Dominique couldn't even watch anymore. She turned to Jack, but couldn't get the words out. She just stared at him rather flabbergasted.

"I don't…" Jack murmured, as lost for words as she was. He was shaking his head until he suddenly stood up straighter, his eyes growing slightly wider. "He's coming over here,"

Dominique turned back just in time to find that her brother had walked straight over to the pair of them. His smile slipped a bit and definitely grew more awkward, but that was actually a strange comfort for her. Had he plastered on some over-the-top, fake smile, she'd be wondering if it was actually him and not some kind of imposter.

"Hello," Louis said a bit tentatively.

They both stared at him, though Jack finally offered a, "Hey," in response.

"Madness out there," Louis said, gesturing around in a general sort of way.

Dominique blinked. "Yeah."

Louis cleared his throat. "Well...thanks for showing up."

Dominique had half a mind to tell him that the only reason she was here was because their parents wouldn't have let her hear the end of it had she hid up at the castle, but she didn't. She needed to stop letting her instinct to yell at him because of how strange everything was win. She instead took a small solace in the fact that Louis was being nice to her–whether because he was trying to keep up appearances or because he'd had some sort of change of heart. She wanted to hold onto it for the few minutes she could get it because she didn't know if it would last.

"Lou, we're on your side," Jack said earnestly. "Things have been...I don't even have a word for how fucked up they've been, but I meant what I said yesterday. Every word of it."

Whatever it was he'd said to him yesterday, Dominique hadn't been privy to; he'd never mentioned it to her. He was apparently keeping that private.

Louis looked away. His smile seemed forced now. "Well, thanks."

"He's right," Dominique said, sensing something strange. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she wondered if Louis was putting everything aside for now since it wasn't worth going into this task with unfinished business and grudges if something happened to him. It made her realize she needed to do the same thing.

"I will always be on your side," she said. "Louis, I'm so sorry. I know you blame yourself for everything that's happened to us, but none of this is your fault. I've fucked up, too. I've been stupid and blind and secretive and—last night, I said things out of anger…" She looked away. "I really did think I was doing the right thing, but I now know I only made things worse. And you have every right to be angry, but…" she took a deep breath. "I'm just really sorry."

Louis was nodding, but not looking at her. "Well, thanks." He looked toward the exit. "But I need to go. The task is starting soon."

She nodded, feeling tears welling now. "Be careful."

"Yeah, take care of yourself out there, mate," Jack added.

"Yeah, you too," Louis said, glancing from one of them to the other for a few prolonged seconds. His body language was tight and closed off, so he wasn't looking for hugs or affection. She wasn't sure what was happening, but he let his gaze hang on Dominique the longest; as they stared at each other, for the first time ever, she had no idea what he was thinking; she couldn't read him in the slightest. He looked away before he finally stepped back. It was then that he mumbled, "Bye," before he was met once again with their parents. They seemed to be ready to escort him out of the tent. Outside, a loud horn suddenly sounded.

Dominique watched her entire family file out of the tent, but she hung back and waited, wiping her eyes. She still was trying to make sense of what had transpired moments ago, but something also wasn't sitting right with her.

"I can't believe he talked to us," she said.

"Do you think he took something?" Jack asked. "A potion or something? He had to have."

She said nothing, watching as her cousin, Hugo, trailed lastly behind his father outside; now leaving the tent empty.

"He had to have taken something," Jack said. "He hasn't wanted to talk to people or act like that in ages."

"I think it was an act," she finally said. "He was putting in a show. It's easier to give the people what they know instead of getting the questions he's obviously shown us he doesn't want to answer. It's why it was so over the top. It's as if he was pretending to be the old Louis, but going too hard and missing the mark."

"But why do that with us?" Jack asked. "With you? He could have ignored us. He's been doing that since last week. He didn't have to talk to us, but he did."

"Maybe he's afraid something will happen during the task," she said, not wanting to say anything more for fear of putting it out into the universe. "I don't know."

When the pair of them emerged from the tent, the entire seating area had been filled with people. Students were in the risers, waving green flags for Slytherin and red for Gryffindor. The Ministry types were down in the chairs at the front. Her Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron were seated near the front along with her parents. The rest of her family, as well as the families of the other champions, were taking their designated seats near the front. Her Uncle Harry was a good few rows back, which marked the first time Dominique had ever seen her parents get preferential seating over him. Not that anyone but her noticed or cared.

She could join the lot of them, but she decided she was too fidgety to sit. She was happy to stand back by the tents where, nearby, photographers were picking up their cameras and readying themselves. On the stage, McGonagall and the other Heads of their schools were gathered; it was McGonagall stepping forward to greet the crowd.

"Good Morning," she said with her wand pressed to her throat. "Or perhaps we're already into the afternoon. Either way, welcome to Hogwarts and to the last and final installment of the TriWizarding School Tournament."

Cheers and clapping. It was then that Dominique noticed the champions standing just to the side of the stage. Zara was at the front, in a black outfit identical to Louis'. The Durmstrang pair were dressed similarly, only in the color red; the Beauxbatons pair were in blue. She noticed Zara and Javier seemed particularly antsy, but that probably had to do with the fact that one of them would probably be crowned the winner shortly. Louis, she noticed, had dropped the smile and was now looking rather preoccupied standing there.

McGonagall was talking again, though Dominique found she was almost too distracted to listen. She was praising the combined efforts of Hogwarts and the Ministry, as well as the cooperation of all three schools to make this a success. She was thanking students, staff, and family members for their continued support. Notable individuals, including her Aunt Hermione, were named specifically for their willingness and contributions.

This seemed rather endless. Dominique wanted nothing more for her to wrap this up so that they could move along. She wasn't sure how much more of this tournament she could take.

Jack took her hand and she let him. Her eyes never left McGonagall since, at that moment, she reintroduced the champions and gestured for them to join her on the stage. As they did, the cheers and clapping once again picked up; someone had started a "Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hogwarts!" chant from the risers.

They were all in their school pairs; each with their specific school Head. The Durmstrang group were in a bit of a huddle, while Madame Maxime was taking her time to speak to both of her champions separately. Louis and Zara were simply standing back on their own–Zara waving to people while Louis did nothing more than watch–seeing as McGonagall still had her attention on the crowd in front of her.

"The third and final task is a timed event," McGonagall continued. "Each champion will separately enter through our entrance–" she then gestured to a newly constructed, stone archway just beyond the stage; it had two people posted out front, as if guarding it. "Where they will find themselves transported to a series of obstacles and puzzles that they must complete, defeat, or solve to reach the final prize-the TriWizarding School Cup. These tasks are not simple, nor will they be easy to solve. It will take all of their wits and knowledge to reach the end." She paused for emphasis. "Some may not finish at all.

"Now, despite all of the champions competing at the same time, they will never see each other or encounter each other while in the task. They will be completely alone." She smiled. "Some tremendously complex magic is involved that our staff and Ministry contributors have worked tirelessly to perfect. The champion who manages to complete this in the quickest manner, by returning with the cup, will be declared the winner."

More applause and cheers, though Dominique was hung up on the fact that she'd said they'd be transported. Transported meant this task was elsewhere; it wouldn't be visible. Whatever was going to happen, they were–yet again–going to have to wait it out to see what happened.

"Our champions will enter based on their performances in the previous tasks," McGonagall said, turning to gesture to Zara. "And currently, with the most points, our first champion to enter will be Zahara Zabini."

An explosive cheer from the risers. Zara broke into a wide, albeit nervous, looking grin as she stepped forward to once again wave to the crowd. Her and McGonagall shared a quick word as Zara was led off the stage toward the waiting archway. It was then, and only then, did the wizards who'd been guarding it stepped aside.

"In the event of an emergency, our champions all know the spell to perform for assistance. The time will start as soon as the horn sounds and Miss Zabini walks through the tent. To all of our champions, I wish you the best of luck."

More cheers and crowd noises filled the air. Dominique continued to watch as Zara stood dutifully outside the archway; her wand now in her hand and her gaze intently focused on the entrance.

Dominique couldn't help but feel sad to see how Zara well had come through this tournament versus Louis. Dominique couldn't say for sure whether or not Zara had any real lasting damage since they weren't close, but she certainly hadn't suffered as Louis had. If only he hadn't turned the wrong way on that mountain; if they'd stuck together. It wouldn't have stopped what had happened in the second task from happening, but everything would be so different.

"I think I want Zara to win this," Jack said. "That may make me a bad person, but I don't think Lou can handle—?"

"Louis won't be able to handle the win and everything that comes with it," she finished for him. "If he wants to be left alone, then winning is not the way he'd get that."

A horn blared and the cheers kicked up again as Zara immediately disappeared through the archway, disappearing into thin air. McGonagall was already having Javier take his spot to ready himself to enter next. Apparently, he had to wait two minutes before the horn would sound again and he could disappear inside. Aurick was next, though Louis was right behind him as the two were tied for third; Aurick apparently had a slight advantage for some reason.

Dominique watched her brother like a hawk, feeling oddly compelled to remember this moment as he stood there. Instead of watching the archway door rather raptly as the others were doing, he was actually casting quick glances around at the crowds. He didn't even pull his wand out until literal seconds before the horn sounded. Then, once it had—just like that—he was gone.

She sighed as he vanished. Amalie followed after Louis, and Maarit after her. The moment the last champion was gone, the horn sounded once more. There wasn't much else to do but wait.

"I wonder if this is a quick sort of thing or an all day thing?" Jack said, watching as some of the spectators continued to sit, while others got up and began moving around. Up in the risers, people were still chanting.

"These tasks have all been terribly boring for spectators," Dominique mumbled.

"Yeah, I was told there would be dragons," he said, throwing her a funny smile. "I really wanted to see a dragon."

She laughed at him. "Did you? You know I have an uncle who's a bit of a dragon expert."

"I did know that."

"He's also–" She looked around to make sure no one else was listening and lowered her voice, "He's also my favorite uncle, but don't tell anyone I said that."

He smiled. "I didn't know he was your favorite. Don't you rarely see him?"

"Once every couple of years," she offered. "He's the best. Honestly, he's the coolest person alive. He and my dad were always really close–being the oldest in such a large family–so to watch him around my dad is great because he brings out this goofy side in him."

He seemed surprised to hear that. "Goofy is not a word I'd use for your dad."

"My family always used to say I reminded them of him."

"Of your uncle?"

She nodded. "There's this running joke that Louis was always my dad–clever, handsome, charming, people-pleaser, all of that. Then I was like Charlie. Athletic, always in our brother's shadow, didn't care about what people thought, did what we wanted. I even became a Seeker, just like he did. I'm convinced that's why my dad–despite some of my wilder antics–never gets as angry as he probably should with me." She smiled. "I remind him of him."

Jack smiled fondly at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze. It had been ages since she'd thought about her uncle, and even longer since she'd thought about the jokes of how she and Louis were supposed to have been the second coming of Bill and Charlie Wealsey. But these days, that's all they were–jokes. Neither of them seemed to be filling their predecessors rolls any longer.

"Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "I only brought up my uncle because if you wanted to see a dragon, I could write to him. I'd love to see him, and we could probably figure something out this summer."

"Do you mean you want to visit him, or...could he bring one here?"

She swatted him. "Visit him, obviously. We'd have to make the trip to Romania."

He stopped walking to look at her. His expression was strange–a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "You want to take a trip together?"

She shrugged. "If you want to see a dragon."

"I mean, I do," he said with a slow nod, "but…" He smiled. "I'm sort of surprised to hear you want to plan a holiday."

"Why?"

"Because not long ago, I could barely get you to agree to go out with me." He laughed. "And now, you want us to get away together."

She found herself blushing a little. She supposed she could see where he was coming from, but she hadn't thought it was a big deal. Was that considered that big of a step? He'd wanted to see a dragon, she could get him a dragon, she was just trying to–

"But, I would love to," he said, almost as if he sensed her confusion. "If we can work that out, there's nothing I'd rather do than get away with you and see a dragon. I actually don't care if we see the dragon. I'm excited to spend whatever time we get over the summer together. Here, Romania, wherever."

Her face still felt red, but she couldn't fight off an awkward smile that she felt rather self-conscious for having. It was almost funny how he and this relationship still kept catching her off-guard.

An hour had passed with no one having returned, and the crowds had all mostly remained in their seats or areas. She and Jack had ventured into the risers to find people they knew, and Dominique had eventually stumbled upon Sarah and Natalie. She'd recounted to them the story of Louis' pleasant mood before the task, but she quickly changed the subject to something else once she realized she was tired of talking about Louis and his strange behavior lately. She selfishly wished she could have been any of these random students with no real stake in this tournament.

Jack had gotten himself involved in a conversation with a group of Hufflepuffs, so Dominique decided to return down to where her family was. She could tell from where she was that her mother was nervous, and she figured that being there for her was probably the most supportive thing she could do. As she made her way back down to the ground, she was surprised she wasn't more anxious. Calming Draught truly was amazing because she knew on any normal, pre-accident day that she would have been far less relaxed about this.

She'd gotten halfway there, her mind still on her mental state and how her new potions would affect her, when she quickly side-stepped a tall man in purple robes that forced her shoulder to clip another person passing by . When she turned to look, Whit was already quickly apologizing for the collision. That is, she was until she realized who she was speaking to.

Whit stopped speaking and her expression turned startled, though it quickly slipped into more resembling apprehension. She said nothing, only stared at her. They both just stared at each other.

"Hey," Dominique finally said, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Hi," Whit said. She then gestured into the direction she'd been headed into before. "I need to go–"

"Can we talk for a second?"

Whit said nothing. She was not a confrontational person; Dominique knew this. She also knew that the only version of herself that Whit was familiar with was confrontational and bitchy, and that may have been intimidating. Whit was probably more likely to stand there fearful and silent than really speak what was on her mind. And truthfully, Dominique wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. Not because she didn't care; because she was a little afraid to hear it from her mouth that she may have hurt her.

"I just wanted to…" Dominique said, taking a deep breath. "I know you've heard about me and Jack."

"Was it a secret?" Whit asked rather coolly.

"No." She swallowed. "And I honestly don't know what to say, but I know something needs to be said."

Whit shrugged. "There's nothing to be said. You two are together now. That's it."

Dominique felt like apologizing, though she also knew she had no reason to. She wasn't sorry she was with him, and he and Whit had been apart for long enough she didn't feel particularly guilty about it either. But at the same time, she did. She especially did standing in front of her.

"Look," Whit said. "I don't want this to be strange, but we both know it is."

"I get it," Dominique said. "I guess, I just wanted to tell you face to face. I didn't want to ignore it."

"I appreciate that." She forced a nervous smile.

"And while I know it makes things weird, we've always gotten on. I'd like us to, maybe, try and stay friends."

Whit inhaled slowly on that. She looked away and back again before saying, "I don't know. Not now, at least. I'm not ready for that."

Dominique hadn't expected that. Whit had always been so agreeable and easy-going in the past that she'd assumed she would have simply agreed to that to end the conversation and move on. That was not what was happening.

"We can be cordial," she added. "I can do that. No need to be rude to each other, but the rest, I...I can't...Not yet."

Dominique nodded. "I get it. I can do cordial."

"Right," Whit said, taking a large, almost calming breath. "Well, I was actually going this way, so…" She pointed. "I'm going to go...that way."

Dominique nodded and forced an awkward smile as Whit left without another word; she was left standing there feeling not much better about the situation than when they'd started the conversation, but at least it had been something. All of the other relationships in her life were changing–what was one more?


	25. The Final Champion

An hour and a half had passed with no signs of any of the champions. Dominique sat with her parents, with her grandparents, with the rest of her family. She'd had a few reporters–who must have noticed her with her family–come and ask her the typical questions. How was she feeling? Did she think her brother could win this? Had she spoken to him?

She gave them all the same answer. She was fine and she knew her brother was capable. However, there were a lot of capable people in this tournament. It was anyone's to win.

She managed to overhear her Aunt Hermione speaking to some colleagues about how the task should take no longer than two hours from everything she'd been told. She was now keen to know what her aunt knew, but matters like this naturally superseded family connections. Her aunt–the soon to be Minister of Magic–knew things. Official business was not something she could simply walk up and ask her about.

Professor Longbottom appeared soon thereafter; apparently to visit with his friends. He was making his way around the Weasley group, and Dominique assumed he wanted to make idle conversation with her parents, but he instead came and sat down beside her. His smile and demeanor was friendly. "How are you doing, Dominique?"

He'd been calling her Dominique a lot more often lately, she noted, but she merely shrugged in response. "Same as everyone else, I suspect. Waiting for this to be over."

"I have a feeling our winner will probably be finished soon."

She nodded rather lazily before she cast him a quick look. "Do you know exactly what's happening in the task, Professor?"

He nodded, but was busy watching a group of photographs clamoring to get a photo of her Uncles Harry and Ron, as well as her Aunt Hermione, as they chatted nearby. "I do. Many of us at the school contributed. Simply put, it's an obstacle course to truly test their knowledge and skill." He looked back at her. "Professor McGonagall drew inspiration from a similar idea that Professor Dumbledore had put in place many years ago. Only in that instance, it was to protect a valuable magical object here at the school."

"What was the object?"

"Something that has since been destroyed," Longbottom said. When Dominique's expression seemed to urge him to continue, he elaborated. "It was something Voldemort wanted to get his hands on. Happened my first year here, though I had no idea at the time. Your aunt and uncles did, though." He gestured to them. "They actually ran the course. Harry completed it with the help of the other two. Managed to stave off Voldemort for a bit."

She stared at him. "You said it was your first year here? Which also means it was their first year here, correct?"

He nodded.

"So, you're telling me this course–that was designed to protect something valuable from a deranged lunatic–was easy enough that a bunch of eleven and twelve-year-olds could figure it out?"

That made Longbottom laugh loudly. "I suppose I am. But you have to remember, they weren't typical eleven-year-olds. Not like me." He gestured over to where Hermione, Ron, and Harry were barely bothered by the photographers. "They are who they are today because they were never typical."

Dominique nodded as she also watched them. "Is the course today the same one they did?"

He shook his head. "No. Professor McGonagall was inspired by the idea of it, but she changed quite a bit. She had many of us contribute our own areas of expertise and build upon past ideas. I personally think it's very tricky." He shrugged. "But then again, I would have thought the old one was, too."

"I heard a rumor there was flying involved."

"There's a bit. There's a bit of everything. As I said, we all contributed."

"What did you contribute?"

"Various aggressive plants," he offered. "Many of which could do some damage if you weren't paying attention for the last seven years." He smiled a little. "And I can safely say I know your brother and Zahara were paying attention. They always got top marks in my class."

She nodded in a rather detached manner. She had a feeling that was the end of their little chat and that the silence would allow him to excuse himself, but he didn't. Instead he asked, "I never got to ask you about your time with Healer Cane that day. What did you think?"

She felt a little squirmy in her seat. "It was fine. He suggested that I see him again after I was done with school. Perhaps I should make a thing of it and it could help me long term."

Longbottom nodded. "I think he's right. He's a wonderful man. He's always been very kind to me, which meant a lot when I was young." He looked over at her. "I don't know if you were aware, but my parents suffered great spell damage when I was a baby. Enough that they aren't capable of taking care of themselves.

"They were admitted to St. Mungo's for care and they've been there for as long as I can remember," he continued. "I've spent a lot of time on that ward with those Healers. It's why I take it all so seriously–dealing with your spell damage, that is. I know these people and I know how they can help." He threw her a sad, but genuine smile. "I do hope you consider letting Cane and his associates help you. It is a process."

She again nodded; while she agreed with him, she didn't quite know what to say since it truly was overwhelming to think about.. She let her gaze travel over to where her parents were standing; her mother remaining cool and reserved while her father walked around with nervous energy. Members of their family were offering them encouraging words and attempting to take their minds off of things.

Dominique turned back to Longbottom. "I really do think Louis' in a worse spot than me."

"Even once the love spell was extracted? I'd been under the assumption that was causing him the most grief."

She nodded, though she didn't get the chance to elaborate. The sound of an immense cheer suddenly cut through the air as they–and everyone else–began searching around for the source of the jubilation.

In the direction of the archway, a tall, dark, willowy girl with her hair plaited down her back suddenly emerged holding onto what looked like a golden trophy. She looked a bit frazzled and certainly as if she'd dealt with some serious things on the other side of that archway, but on the whole, Zara looked completely triumphant. It had taken her a moment to remember to smile, but once the crowd's cheers became almost deafening, a proud grin crossed her face. She'd done it. She'd won the entire thing.

People were clapping, yelling, and shooting sparks up with their wands. Zara's family had come rushing to greet her, as well as some of her closer friends. The horn was blaring to symbolize the end of the task and, shortly thereafter, the other champions began emerging from the archway one by one as if summoned. Javier looked tremendously disappointed–or perhaps he needed a cigarette–but he was attempting to put on a brave face. The others were all clapping and walking over to wait their turns to congratulate Zara.

Louis, looking unscathed, had been the first one of the champions to make it through to her, hugging her quickly and saying something to her. He was ushered away swiftly and out of sight, seeing as everyone up on the stage was attempting to get to Zara. Sparks and fireworks were still going off; cheers carried from every direction. Several people had conjured confetti and streamer spells.

Nearby, her parents and family members were all exchanging hugs and good natured, but defeated shrugs. Dominique immediately noticed both of her parents looked more relieved than anything else. They had to be thinking that Louis made it through this one alive and in one piece; he'd walked out on his own accord. For the first time, he hadn't been pulled out in a state of unconsciousness.

The celebrations carried on for ten minutes as McGonagall finally appeared on the stage to attempt to settle everyone down. That action itself took more time, but after shooing away the photographers and everyone who wasn't Zara and her immediate family, she proudly let Zara take her moment at center stage to declare her the winner of the inaugural Tri-Wizarding School Tournament.

Dominique started clapping along with everyone else, noticing then that Jack had emerged from the crowd after finding her. They exchanged quick smiles as McGonagall invited several Ministry personnel up to the stage to commence with the prize awarding ceremony. As they were organizing themselves to do that, she also extended an invitation to the other champions to please join them on stage so that they can once again be recognized for their amazing achievements.

Aurick, Javier, and Maarit immediately appeared with their Heads in tow. Madame Maxime had been following, though stopped and immediately looked confused. She spoke something to someone, who dashed off the stage in an instant.

"With impressive showings," McGonagall said, "Please join me in congratulating our competitors from the Durmstrang Institute. Mr. Aurick Moser and Miss Maarit Lampenin."

Lots of clapping and applause as they waved and took their bows and waves. At the same time, the person who'd dashed off stage at Maxime's request suddenly reappeared with Amalie in tow. She was rushing up onto the stage to join Javier, having just made it in time for McGonagall to announce the pair of them.

"And from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Mr. Javier Escolera and Miss Amalie Bellamy."

As the clapping continued, Dominique looked around for Louis. His introduction was due up next, but he was nowhere to be found. She nudged Jack. "Do you see Louis?"

He shook his head, standing up taller to get a better look.

"And, then from our own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," McGonagall continued, though only then did she seem to realize she was announcing someone who wasn't there. She looked around and then down at some of the people standing near the stage. "Is Louis Weasley hiding down there?"

There was laughter from the crowd as people craned their necks in an attempt to get a better look at what was happening. Dominique was watching with great curiosity as McGonagall seemed to be trying to communicate with people who didn't seem to have any answers for her. She then looked out amongst the crowd, specifically looking in the direction of the Weasley family. "If Louis Weasley is out there, please make your way to the stage."

Dominique's brow furrowed before she started to look around. Everyone seemed confused as to where Louis would have gone since he'd been there moments before. Everywhere she looked, people were glancing around them, as if expecting him to emerge with a charming smile and an "Oops, lost track of time" excuse.

Only nothing was happening. Louis was nowhere to be found.

"Alright," McGonagall said. "Well, Louis Weasley, wherever he may be."

More clapping, though it was deliberately slower and more confused sounding. Dominique looked at her parents; her father was looking straight back at her. He was silently asking if she knew what was happening, to which she shook her head. When Victoire and Ted appeared a minute later later, they had the same expression.

"Did you see where he went?"

"No, did you?"

"Where would he have gone?" Victoire asked.

"Toilet?" Ted offered. "Maybe he really had to go."

McGonagall had let the mustached Ministry official take the stage then to present Zara with her prize. The crowd was back to paying attention to that, though everyone around her was still unsure what they should be doing. Longbottom had reappeared to speak to her parents; everyone was mildly confused. He'd just been there, where did he go?

Zara was given a large, symbolic cheque in the amount of one-thousand Galleons, as well as flowers, and the prize winning cup. She was struggling to hold it all for the photographers who were begging her to look in their direction. People were still yelling and shooting sparks off with their wands. It had erupted into a bit of a wild celebration.

Eventually, once Zara had thanked everyone and the group took their final bows, the crowds did eventually begin to disperse. Many went back to the castle to continue celebrating—no doubt Slytherin would be absolute madness—or they were making their exits through the gates towards Hogsmeade. Her family had hung around for a while, all hoping to congratulate Louis on a job well done, but when he still didn't turn up after another hour, everyone outside of her parents and sister started to say their goodbyes.

"Tell Louis he performed tremendously," Hermione had been telling Fleur. "I wish I could myself, but let him know we're so proud of everything he's overcome."

Midday soon turned into late afternoon, and Louis' whereabouts still remained unknown. By evening, other people had started to ask questions about him. It seemed most had assumed he was off on his own–perhaps sulking after his loss; perhaps needing some space. He would turn up when he was ready.

"It would be rather devastating to have lost the whole thing," Rosie Weasley had offered Dominique upon running into her. "Especially after all that pressure to perform well."

Her parents hadn't been as convinced as everyone else that Louis was simply off lamenting. They'd argued Louis wasn't the type to sulk and disappear over a loss, though Victoire was quick to point out that Dominique was; perhaps it was another thing they'd swapped along the way. Their mother still hadn't seemed convinced, though Dominique couldn't argue with Victoire's logic. Louis was most definitely of the sulking variety these days.

But where had he gone? He wasn't in his room or the common room. He wasn't in any of the usual spots around the castle. That wasn't to say he hadn't found himself a new spot–the castle did have so many places to hide–but where? And for how long? He hadn't shown any intense desire to win the tournament in ages. How upset could he really have been?

The visitors and officials had mostly cleared after the celebratory feast in Zara's honor, leaving everything to return to mostly normal around the school. Her parents and sister had probably been the last people to leave, though Longbottom had been given instructions to please owl them once Louis turned up. Dominique could sense that her mother felt something wasn't right; truth be told, she sensed it as well.

She, Jack, Sarah, Flynn, Natalie and several others all sat in the common room waiting for Louis to turn up until well past midnight. Longbottom continued to pop in until just after eleven to check, though every time he discovered Louis hadn't returned, his face grew more and more concerned. On his last visit, he hadn't even bothered asking any questions. He'd seen the group of them still sitting on the sofa–having not moved all night–and he'd merely sighed before walking out without a word.

Dominique slept in Jack's bed that night–willing Louis to turn up and scold her for it. She and Jack didn't sleep much; they instead lay next to each other and talked to pass the time. They relived how the rest of the school had been in a positively fantastic mood after the tournament; how nice the feast had been, and how happy Zara had seemed.

It had been next to impossible to get anywhere near Zara after she'd won, but they'd heard through the grapevine that the task had included difficult potion making that the champions had to ingest; a horrifying sounding encounter with a chimera–which was actually a boggart, but Zara hadn't known; a transfiguration puzzle involving some very large objects; something to do with Venomous Tentaculas, and various other tricks and traps that Dominique wasn't sure were actual parts of the task or exaggerated rumors. It also turned out Ansel Baileymoore's information had been true. There had been flying apparently; something to do with using a broom to catch a flying key

Dominique had drifted off to sleep at some point, but woke early since she hadn't taken her potion and had slept poorly. A nightmare had jolted her up, where she noticed Jack had his arm around her. He was still asleep, so she must not have been that restless. She gently lifted herself up so as to not disturb him, but immediately glanced at her brother's bed. It was empty and untouched.

She took a heavy breath and pulled herself up to stand. It was very early–probably five o'clock in the morning. She made her way into the empty common room and crossed to the girls' dormitory. Her roommates were all sleeping, so she dressed in silence and quickly took the last bit of Calming Draught to get her at least partially through the day. She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she was going to need it.

It was still too early for breakfast, so she wandered downstairs. She hadn't been sure what she was looking for, but there weren't any professors about. The entire castle seemed eerily quiet as she exited through the front and out into the courtyard. It was a dull grey, early light outside, but even so, she could still see remnants of the tournament spread across the grounds. The tents had come down, but the stage was still up; the risers were as well. The archway, she noticed, was gone.

She walked around the lake several times, her eyes open and observing. A part of her realized she was looking for Louis, but she didn't know why she thought he'd be in the woods. He wasn't exactly the type to rough it, and even if he had been, why would he bother? None of it made any sense.

After returning to the castle later in the morning, there were more people buzzing around. Not many, seeing as it was still only six-thirty, but the earlier riser had come to breakfast. Dominique joined them in the Great Hall; eating a quick bacon sandwich and drinking plenty of juice. She'd been contemplating having a second sandwich when she saw Professor Longbottom pass through the entrance. It seemed early for him to be here.

She had a feeling when she saw him that he'd come to speak to her; when he'd crossed the room and headed straight for her, her suspicions were quickly confirmed. His face did not look reassuring, which only confirmed to her what she already knew. Louis still hadn't turned up. Wherever he was hiding, he was making sure to stay put.

'Miss Weasley–"

"No word, then?"

"Could you come with me, please?"

His tone had been urgent, so she didn't question him. She stood without her second sandwich and followed him as he led her toward–what turned out to be–McGonagall's office. As she let the steps take her up to meet the large door, she realized this was the fourth time she'd been in this office since the start of term. She'd never even entered it prior to this year; now she was on her fourth visit.

Upon entering, she was even more surprised to find both of her parents there; her mother sitting in a chair in front of the large wooden desk and her father standing nearby. McGonagall was seated behind her desk, and all eyes landed on Dominique as she entered. She immediately felt nervous, but she wasn't sure why.

"She was in the Great Hall having breakfast," Longbottom explained, answering a question that no one had asked. McGonagall was nodding though, so perhaps it was something Dominique simply wasn't privy to.

She took the moment to smile at both of her parents, and they both returned it in a very lukewarm and exhausted sort of way. They were clearly preoccupied, and Dominique wasn't dumb enough to ask them what was going on. Louis may have walked out of that third task on his own accord, but he was still three for three in causing his parents extreme stress afterwards.

"Dominique," said Professor McGonagall, clearing her throat. "Thank you for coming. I know you're aware that your brother is still missing. That is, in the last eighteen hours, no one can claim to know where he's gone off to. Many of us assumed he was simply dealing with the end of the tournament in his own way, but this length of time without any word seems rather excessive." She paused to look her in the eye. "We're now starting to believe he's left the school."

Dominique felt her brow furrow. Left the school? Left the school and gone where? Why would he have left the school? That couldn't be right. They were done in less than a week, why would he have left? Not to mention, his trunk and the area around his bed had looked untouched. His music, his radio, his books...everything was still there. She hadn't looked inside of his trunk to check if he'd taken anything, but...why?

"We've performed some spells to locate him and haven't had luck turning up anything," McGonagall continued. "That isn't to say that the magic of this castle doesn't have ways of rendering those spells rather useless, but it's beginning to be the explanation that makes the most sense." She stood then to walk around to the front of her desk, her dark purple robes trailing behind her. "We're attempting to figure out why. Have you heard from your brother at all since the tournament ended?"

She shook her head.

"We understand the two of you are very close, so perhaps he'd said something to you recently–"

"He hasn't," Dominique said blankly. "And we haven't been close lately,"

McGonagall looked confused, though both of Dominique's parents looked as though she'd claimed the sky was green. It was her father who said, "That's impossible."

"You would think so, but–" she glanced over to both of her parents, "Things have changed."

"Changed how?" her mother asked, though she was drowned out by her husband saying, "Changed? So, you've decided to...what, exactly? Stop being close?" He sounded dumbfounded and even a little irritated. "After eighteen years of being each other's shadows, now–"

"I didn't decide anything," she said. "He's angry and doesn't want anything to do with anyone. Locked himself away and threw away the key."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" McGonagall asked, the lone voice of calm in the bunch.

"I mean, that's what he told me," Dominique offered. "He's angry with me. He says he doesn't need me telling him what to do after I told him he needed to get help. He doesn't need anyone. He just wants everyone to go away."

Her mother stood up at the moment and started pacing the room while her father continued to look angry and frustrated. "But where did this come from?" he asked. "I saw him yesterday and he was fine. How am I supposed to believe that he went from perfectly happy to wanting to run away in a few hours time? Unless something in the task…"

"It wasn't the task," Dominique said, hesitating now as more of Louis' words during their fight echoed back to her. "Even before, he'd said he wanted to escape. That's what he told me."

McGonagall adjusted her glasses on her nose. "Did he happen to tell you where he wanted to go?"

She shook her head. "At the time I assumed it was a hypothetical escape. I didn't actually expect him to do it. At least, not without explaining himself."

"Do we think he planned to use the tournament crowds to slip away?" Longbottom asked, looking at McGonagall. "Then again, why wait?" He could have left any weekend by walking down to Hogsmeade–"

"The tournament had created a magically binding contract," McGonagall reminded everyone. "He was aware of the consequences of breaking it. It would explain why he left after its completion if he was looking to actually leave."

"But why did he want to leave!?" yelled her mother, having swung around on the group of them rather fiercely. "Why does my son suddenly want to escape everyzing? Why am I now hearing zat zings were bad enough zat his sister is asking him to seek help that he apparently refused? Why iz everyzing just now coming out!? He had a love spell inside of his 'ead for months and no one knew! Why does no one seem to know what iz 'appening!?"

The room was silent for a long moment, though Longbottom did finally break the silence. His voice was quiet when he said, "Fleur, up until a week ago when we learned of the love spell, he hadn't shown any real signs of strange behavior. He hid it remarkably well. It wasn't until he went off the potion to control his spell that the withdrawal caused him to act out."

Her mother looked as if smoke could have shot straight out of her ears. Her father seemed just as angry, though he was clenching his jaw and silently staring at the floor. His expression was very reminiscent of Louis when he was particularly absorbed in something.

"I should 'ave known somezing was truly wrong when I 'eard he was fighting oz'er students," her mother said. "Under normal circumstance, Louis would 'ave never—"

"It was Jack he was fighting with," Dominique said, catching Longbottom's eye as she said. "I know you're not allowed to give out details, but I can. They should know exactly who it was. It being Jack is different than it being a random student. It shows where his head was."

She'd been hoping to make her parents see that there had been more of a personal connection to Louis' outburst, not that he was running around fighting random kids like a madman, but she wasn't sure if her intent was understood. Instead, both of her parents just looked shocked.

"He and Jack got into a fight?!" her father asked, now looking at Dominique, as if begging her to explain this. "They're best friends." His voice suddenly raised. "My son doesn't get into fist fights with his friends! He's never hit...!" He suddenly stepped away as if to gather himself; he was quiet for a long moment before he finally said, "He claimed it hadn't been a big deal and not to worry. He never even mentioned Jack's name. He didn't even seem bothered by it."

"I think he was putting on an act yesterday," Dominique said quietly. "Why, I don't know, but his entire demeanor yesterday was so different from how I've seen him lately. He even put it on with me. And before yesterday, he legitimately hadn't spoken to me in ages unless we were arguing."

"And why have you been arguing, Dominique?" asked Professor McGonagall, her voice calm and collected.

Dominique glanced down at the vacant chair in front of her. She probably should sit if she was properly going to do this. "If you want, I can start at the beginning. But it's a long story..."

Her mother had started to cry once she heard the details. She'd gone from moments of pure sadness as Dominique described in detail how much she and Louis had lost due to the second task, only to flip to looking completely heartbroken at hearing how much of this could probably have been avoided if someone had just opened their mouth and said something sooner.

Her father said nothing. His face was like stone. She couldn't see how he didn't blame her for all of this. Somehow, she felt as though this wasn't one of her wilder antics that fondly reminded him of Charlie and he could simply excuse it away.

"I had no idea," Longbottom said in a faraway voice. "Louis always seemed so…" He blinked in a lost sort of way.

Even McGonagall had seemed shocked to hear the story, which only went to show just how in the dark everyone had truly been; how well Louis knew how to play the game. He'd fooled so many people into thinking his spell damage was surface level, when in reality, it was eating him alive inside. Add to that the lies and the confusion...He'd felt the need to escape it all.

"I cannot believe you and Louis 'ave been going zrough all of zis on your own," her mother finally said. "I can't believe neither of you said something to us. Why did neizer of you say somezing?"

"We assumed we could handle it," Dominique said meekly. "I thought I could…" She squirmed uncomfortably and found herself glancing over at Professor Longbottom before back at her mother. "But I'm getting help now. I'm trying to at least. I'm talking to someone. I'm taking potions. I was trying to convince Louis too, but at that point he didn't trust me because I'd lied to him…"

"I can't…" her father said before trailing off. He looked like a man who'd been left in the dark for longer than he should have and he was not happy about it. Oddly enough, he looked less angry now. He looked a hundred other emotions, but anger wasn't one of them.

When he finally turned back to face McGonagall, he simply asked, "So, what can be done?"

McGonagall inhaled slowly. "Unfortunately, not much can be done since he's an adult who left on his own free will. Anyone in an official capacity still wouldn't even consider him missing for at least another day or so, and that would still be tricky to prove. Especially since he doesn't pose a risk of harm to anyone."

"But himself."

"We can, of course, put the word out to keep an eye out," McGonagall offered. "You will want to contact Ms. Granger or Mr. Potter since they would have the best resources available to them."

Her father was already nodding, just as Longbottom added, "And perhaps we can attempt to set up monitors to see if he turns up in certain places. Gringotts, for example, if he goes to retrieve money, they could perhaps–"

"They could only alert us," her father said matter-of-factly. "They wouldn't be able to do anything. Goblins have very little interest in the problems of wizards."

"You've worked with the bank for over twenty-five years," Dominique said. "They wouldn't–?"

"Goblins run by their own code," her father said with a stoney face. "So, no. They wouldn't." He looked over at McGonagall. "I need to send owls."

McGonagall was already fetching him a quill and some parchment as Dominique reached out and laid a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder. Her mother took her own hand and laid it on top of Dominique's, looking at her with wide, sad eyes.

"Mum, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"Zis is many people's faults," her mother said. "You cannot shoulder all of ze blame. It iz the failt of many people. It iz my fault for not…" She trailed off and shook her head. Dominique didn't think she'd ever seen her mother look so sad.

Her father was now scribbling quickly at McGonagall's desk, while McGonagall, herself, was now bent near her fireplace as if trying to contact someone . Longbottom was attempting to offer reassurances to her mother that Louis was bound to turn up sooner rather than later; that someone would spot him and that they would owl everyone necessary to keep an eye open.

"Fleur, maybe owl your parents or your sister," her father said, not looking up for the letter he was writing. "In case he decides to go to France."

"You zink he would leave ze country?" she asked. Dominique's eyes went wide, as if to silently ask the same question. Leave the country?

"I don't know what I think," he said, already sounding exhausted. "I just want everyone to be aware." He glanced over at Dominique, his expression more concerned than she'd could recall in record memory. "Nic, maybe you can ask around? Ask your friends, kids in the school. See if he's spoken to anyone recently?"

"If there is one thing I've noticed working with teenagers is that they have a hard time keeping their plans a secret," Longbottom offered. "News always tends to get out."

Dominique nodded, though she didn't feel particularly confident that Louis had been talking to anyone. He'd been locked up in his room with the curtains drawn for the last week. Still, she had to do something. Her not doing anything was much of the reason they were in this mess.

It was nearly eight o'clock now and she knew the Great Hall would be bustling. She'd been headed straight for it, her goal being to speak to Flynn since she knew he was the only person who could claim to have spoken to Louis lately, but when she'd rounded the corner that led toward it, she'd suddenly been struck by an entirely different idea. She knew exactly whom she wanted to speak to.

She bypassed the Great Hall entirely and headed across the Entrance Hall. Out the front doors, through the courtyard, down onto the grounds, and headed in the direction of the Beauxbatons' carriage. It was still parked there, and she was aware they were supposed to leave shortly. She'd heard someone mention that both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were planning their departure for after breakfast, and that there was supposed to be a bit of a send off around nine. She'd only hoped she'd caught them before they'd left to eat.

She rapped three times on the door to the carriage. She had anticipated doing it several more times, though found herself surprised when it opened straight away to reveal Javier standing there.

"Come to say goodbye," he asked with a funny sort of smile.

"My brother's missing."

The smile slipped off his face. His expression morphed into disbelief. "He never turned up?"

She shook her head and it was then that she noticed he was staring at her strangely. He must have been reading her; she didn't attempt to stop him. She wasn't sure she could tell the story again.

"Shit," he said, turning to look behind him, but gesturing for her to follow. "Come in. I know you're hoping I could help, but I don't know where he went."

"He didn't mention anything to you yesterday?" she asked as she stepped into the carriage. She immediately noticed that it was very clean; it had a quality about it that said it was being packed up to leave. There were a few boxes against a nearby wall, but otherwise, it looked the same as it had been the day she'd been here before the ball.

"No," Javier said as he crossed the living space. "But we didn't see each other much beforehand. We were kept separated until the start of the task."

"I didn't know if you happened to read—"

"No," he said, cutting her off quickly. "Believe it or not, I don't always automatically do that. Yesterday I was preoccupied with everything else. I only even fished around in Zara's head a bit to attempt to figure out how she was feeling."

"And afterwards?"

"I didn't speak to him," he said as he stopped in front of a closed door. "I was preoccupied with having lost." He knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. Amalie's head poked out, but she didn't see Dominique. She instead told Javier something about almost being finished packing.

"She has a question for you," Javier said, and when he gestured to Dominique, Amalie finally noticed her standing there. Her reaction seemed rather surprised, but also a little hesitant.

"Hi," Dominique said, stepping closer. "I know we haven't had the best interactions, but was hoping I could talk to you about Louis. He's run off. He's disappeared without a word or a note and no one knows where he's going or what he's doing."

Amalie emerged fully from her room, and her gaze had also changed into something more intense. Dominique had to assume she was now trying to get a read on the situation, but she felt rather stupid standing there being looked at like that. She decided to speak up, even if Amalie could read her.

"I know how things ended, and that you weren't even speaking, but—I don't know who else to really ask. I thought maybe he'd said something to you before he left."

"He did," she said slowly, causing Dominique's ears to perk up. "But it wasn't what you're looking for. Though..."

"What did he say?"

"Um," she seemed flustered, "He'd stopped me after the task, after Zara had won and everyone was celebrating. I must have gone on the defensive because I didn't know how he would be, but he immediately started apologizing. He wanted me to know he couldn't remember anything he'd done, but if the stories were true, he owed me a huge apology. He wanted me to know he was sorry for how he'd made me feel while under the spell."

That seemed...nice. That seemed much like the old Louis. "That was all he said?"

She sighed and looked at Javier before turning her gaze back on Dominique. "He said he'd never bother me again. Something about how he'd be out of my hair soon, and not to worry. Then one of the professors from Beauxbatons had come to fetch me. They were introducing us," she gestured between her and Javier, "and I needed to be on stage. I do remember Louis had turned and walked away after that, and it didn't hit me until he was announced later and never turned up that he'd walked off in the wrong direction. He'd gone away from the stage."

"That's it?"

She nodded. "That's it. I didn't see him after that."

Dominique sighed, having not found anything particularly useful and realizing she'd wasted her time coming down here. As she was about to excuse herself and leave them to their packing, Javier suddenly looked as if he remembered something.

"He'd told me many times on our walks that he wanted to get away. He was tired of everything; he needed to see what was out there. See the continent. I told him to come visit me in Galera if he found his way to Spain, but it wasn't a real plan. It was the sort of thing we all say, you know? Who doesn't want to get away and travel?"

It was then that she found herself wondering whether this was actually happening. Did Louis actually leave for some far away place? And if that's what he wanted to do, why did he have to run away to do it? Why not wait a few days, get through the end of term, tell everyone his plans, and then take off? Why the suddenness? Why the urgency?

"Probably because he didn't want people telling him not to," Javier offered. "He's sick and tired of people telling him what to do."

"Stop reading me," Dominique said, her eyes landing on Amalie. She had been looking at Javier curiously, though when their eyes met, Javier shrugged her off. It made her turn back to Dominique and sigh.

"Do you have any family or friends he may have tried to go and see first?" she asked. "I feel awful because I can see how worried you are."

"My parents are already writing to my family," Dominique said, realizing that she'd gotten all the info she'd come for; she may as well leave them to get ready for their trip home. "If either of you hear from him, please let me know."

Javier nodded quickly, which seemed to surprise Amalie. She eventually looked away and offered Dominique a genuine sounding. "Absolutely. And I'm sorry this happened."

"Yeah," she said. "I'm also sorry you had to deal with the Louis you had to deal with. He really is a lovely person...or, was before all of this happened." She found herself sadly smiling. "The best person."

"He seemed wonderful," Amalie said with a small smile. "He certainly had a way with people." She frowned. "It shouldn't have happened to him. It shouldn't have happened to anyone, but…" She looked away. "You know."

"I know," Dominique said quietly. Trust me, I know."


	26. Back Across the Lake

The Hogwarts Express left at nine o'clock that morning, and the majority of the school had cleared out to catch it. The final day of school scramble was always hectic, with everyone rising early, packing, rushing about. Trunks were slammed shut for the final time that term and breakfast was generally hurried. Many people took the carriages to Hogsmeade to catch the train; others walked. For the first time since she started at Hogwarts, Dominique wasn't among the faces making that trek.

At ten o'clock that morning, the seventh-years had their commencement assembly. It was essentially a send off event, with McGonagall speaking to them for the last time as their Headmistress. Family members were invited to attend, though Dominique had to wonder if her parents would even bother at this point. If anyone had to be sick of the constant visits to Hogwarts, it was them; she couldn't even blame them. Nothing here had turned up good news lately.

There still had been no word from Louis; no news, no sightings. His bank account had remained untouched, and it had taken her father ages to simply get that tiny bit of information out of the goblins at Gringotts. It was assumed that while he probably had some money, he wouldn't last long on it; he would have to visit Gringotts eventually if he planned on keeping this up. That piece of news had calmed her parents significantly. With this information they assumed Louis was still in the country and perhaps planning to return sooner rather than later.

"Perhaps he needed a week away," her father had suggested after Dominique had returned to McGonagall's office that first day to tell them everything Amalie and Javier had told her. Her father was less angry now, but more desperate sounding. It was clear he was thinking things through and trying to logically explain everything.

"I wanted to escape as a kid, too. Charlie and I would always talk about getting away from our family and seeing the world. And we did. I went to Egypt. Charlie's still off traveling the globe." He looked at his wife, "Even you, Fleur. You wanted to get away from what you knew. You came straight here after you finished school."

"After I finished school," she said rather matter-of-factly. "And you finished school. And Charlie finished school. And our parents all knew where we 'ad gone. We didn't run away, Bill."

"True," her father said with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, we did do it properly."

Louis' things had been searched after his disappearance came to light, and while the objects he'd had in plain sight—such as his radio and books on his bedside table—had remained mostly untouched, his trunk had been completely cleaned out. It confirmed to everyone that he'd planned this well ahead of time; that it hadn't been a spur of the moment decision.

"How'd he get all of that stuff out of the castle without anyone noticing?" Flynn had asked as he, Jack, Dominique, and Professor Longbottom all stared down into the empty trunk.

"We got bottomless bags for our birthdays," Dominique mumbled, realizing he could have easily pocketed all of his possessions and walked right out without anyone being any the wiser. That was probably exactly what he did.

In a quest for answers, Dominique had asked everyone if they had any sort of information or had spoken to Louis at all about his plans. Flynn had said Louis talked about wanting to leave, but he–like everyone else–assumed it was more the general sort of chatter that people graduating usually spoke of. He'd claimed there'd been no specifics or places mentioned; he hadn't taken him seriously.

Her cousin, Freddie, had told her that when he'd run into Louis on the morning of the tournament, he'd wished him luck and that Louis had actually doubled back to hug him. While he wouldn't have thought it was strange usually–since Louis had always been very sweet with him–Freddie had said given how grumpy and moody Louis had been lately, it had come as a surprise.

"It was a tight hug," Freddie said. "I thought maybe he was scared since every task so far has nearly killed him." He shrugged. "Now that I think about it, maybe he was hugging me goodbye before he left."

Rosie, James and Albus had similar stories about how Louis had stopped to share a few words with them, which again they'd all found strange since he'd been so distant lately. Natalie had mentioned she'd run into him in passing in the stairwell before the task and, after polite hellos, he'd told her to , "Be sure to take care of yourself" before walking off. She found it odd, seeing as he was the one headed into the task, but it hadn't raised any alarms at the time.

It was Natalie's comment that made Dominique think back to her last encounter with her brother. His odd, pleasant act that seemed strange to her at the time. She and Jack had been so focused on how he was acting, neither had really stopped to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

"You told him to take care," Dominique reminded Jack. "And he said, 'you too.' At the time, I just assumed he was responding out of habit and not paying attention, but what if he was?"

"Was, what?"

"What if he was telling you to take care, too. Because he was leaving? Remember, the last thing he said to us was, 'Bye.' Obviously hindsight is 20/20, but would you say 'bye?' before–"

"Before leaving a conversation?" Jack asked. "That's fairly standard."

"I mean, it is," she agreed. "But, I don't know. 'See you later,' or something similar to that seems more appropriate."

Jack shrugged, "I'm not saying you're wrong, but I am saying there's no way anyone could have known what he was going to do based on what he said." He paused for a moment. "But, looking back, yeah. I do think he may have been saying goodbye."

"Which means," she said, finding her stomach twist uncomfortably, "that this very well may be longer than a quick trip."

And on that final morning at Hogwarts, Dominique found herself more sad than she ever could ever have possibly imagined. She was shit at goodbyes and avoided them at all costs, but that was impossible today. She'd only had so much that she held dear in life, and she was losing one thing after the other. Flying, her relationship with Louis, actual Louis, and now the place she'd called a second home for seven years.

She'd always said that the World Cup had been the marker in her life that separated her childhood from her adulthood, but she was now thinking she'd been a bit premature in that assumption.

Sarah was rather weepy all morning. Dominique, despite everything, found it hard to want to cry. She was a mixture of far too many emotions; perhaps the anger she felt for her brother, mixed with the sadness she also felt for him–and for everything else–kept her from actually breaking down. She instead found herself sitting silently in the nearly empty common room as Sarah and Natalie walked about pointing out every single memory they could think of. Every chair, every table, every bit of the room seemed to remind them of something.

Jack and Flynn were more amused at being able to have the entire common room to themselves, even if it was just for a few minutes. They stretched out across sofas and pushed chairs around; taking up as much space as they could. It had taken them seven years to reach the point where they could have their run of the room, so they apparently were going to enjoy it.

They'd all gone and given their rooms one last walk-through, which caused Sarah to cry even more. Dominique did walk over to her bed and run her hand over it one last time. Some little first-year would be sleeping in it next year. That was a weird thought. Natalie and Sarah were again walking down memory lane as they stood there, though this time Eleanor joined them. They'd had a lot of good times in that room–even if Dominique had balked at them for entirely too long.

As they walked through the portrait hole for the final time, Dominique decided to treat it like a bandage and do it without looking back. She could hear Sarah crying, but she couldn't look at her or else she may have been overcome with emotion herself. Leaving Gryffindor Tower for the final time was proving to be the hardest part.

They ran into the Ravenclaws on the way down the stairs. Marlowe Quinn and Kiera Khan were tear-stained and sniffly, immediately rushing over to hug Eleanor and the other girls in a shared moment of sadness. Lira Chin looked remarkably resolute, but she–like Dominique–seemed to be avoiding the overt displays of emotions. She was walking ahead of everyone on her own; heading down the stairs with a purpose.

Giggleswick walked by with Ansel Baileymoore and Caleb Gilmore. Even he had nothing to say for once, and truth be told, she didn't either. Perhaps the day had come where they were finally over it. There were no final jabs or quips; there was only silence. After four years of back and forth, they'd finally reached the point of nothing.

As they reached the Entrance Hall, the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were all standing around, waiting to be invited inside. It was a generally subdued group; not as rambunctious as usual. Friends were leaning into each other with heads on shoulders and arms wrapped around each other. A few people were standing off on their own, and Dominique felt she, too, probably would have felt most comfortable being left alone to her thoughts.

But that wasn't happening, seeing as right at that moment, a stone faced Zara caught her eye and stepped away from her friends to walk over to her. It wasn't the first time the two had spoken since Louis had vanished–Dominique had asked her the same questions she'd asked everyone else–but it hadn't been a lengthy conversation.

She'd said the two had shared a few words before the task, mostly well wishes and 'good luck'. Louis hadn't mentioned anything out of the ordinary, and she, too, had noticed he seemed to be putting on a bit of a happy act. She'd noticed his mood swings lately, so the friendly hug he'd given her before they'd walked down to the castle had taken her by surprise. But that had been it. She couldn't even remember seeing him after the task; she'd been so caught up in the moment that the faces had blended together.

"Hey, Weasley," she said, approaching rather tentatively. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugged.

"I just wanted to…" She looked away. "Now that everything's died down, I haven't really been able to stop thinking about Louis. Knowing what I knew and how–while I'd convinced myself it wasn't my business–I still should have done more. I guess, I never really realized how bad it was. I mean, after I left Beauxbatons, we didn't talk as much…"

Zara seemed to be beating herself up about this, and Dominique wanted to tell her not to. She'd committed to shouldering most the blame for Louis now; because it ultimately was her fault more than anyone else's. She was the one who was supposed to have protected him.

"He and I got really close at Durmstrang," she said. "And I thought things would be the same when we got to Beauxbatons, and they weren't. He was all over the place–one day in love, the next day back to normal." She sighed. "I should have said something then."

"We all should have," she offered.

"It's something I truly regret," she said, and she looked like she meant it. "I wish I would have..."

But she never finished that sentence. Dominique wasn't sure if she'd ever planned on finishing or if the doors to the Great Hall opening caused a distraction large enough for her to switch gears. When they looked back at each other, all Zara said was, "I hope he comes home soon."

Dominique forced a smile, just as Jack came up behind her and seemed to be waiting for her so that they could enter together. She took a deep breath and glanced down at her uniform–the last time she'd ever have to be in these robes–and then back up at the large Great Hall doors. While she was more than ready for this school year to end, she wasn't ready for this new chapter to start. Not like this.

But as with everything else in her life lately, she didn't have a choice.

The ceremony had been shorter than Dominique had assumed it would be. She hadn't gone to her sister's, instead opting to take the train home back with her friends, but she'd expected it would last longer than the half hour to forty minutes that it did.

Their house tables had vanished, and they sat in chairs at the front of the hall, closest to the professors' table as their families were ushered in and sat behind them. Lira Chin and–to Dominique's annoyance–Ansel Baileymoore had gotten to stand at the front for the beginning of the presentation. They had been presented awards for their services to the school for their duties as Head Girl and 'acting' Head Boy, which was yet another painful reminder of Louis' absence. Dominique hated to admit it, but when she really thought about it, Ansel had probably fulfilled the role of Head Boy more than Louis had this year. He probably deserved it.

Zara had also gotten an award presented to her, which garnered a loud applause. Louis, too, it seemed would forever have his name imprinted in the trophy room–not only for being Head Boy, but for also being a participant in the TriWizarding School Tournament. At his name, Dominique felt as though she'd had a hundred eyes suddenly on her, but she kept her gaze focused forward and away from everyone else. Jack had reached over and put his hand on hers.

McGonagall had addressed them, telling them how honored she was to have watched them grow into competent witches and wizards; how proud she felt to have them go out into the world representing Hogwarts and the lessons it had taught them. She would miss them dearly, and perhaps would meet them all again when the time was right–whether that was due to a professional engagement or to see them one day returning to visit their own child here. Their academic journey was at an end, but their life was only just beginning.

It was a blur, and before Dominique knew it, they were being ushered out of the Great Hall; down a set of stairs that Dominique honestly hadn't taken since her first-year, and into the small underground harbor that housed the boats. Roughly forty to fifty of them were waiting to take them back out and across the Black Lake, a reverse of what they'd done as eleven-year-olds. It didn't seem that long ago that she and Louis had been staring at them from the shoreline in Hogsmeade after having taken their first trip on the Hogwarts express.

The group of seventh-years began congregating all around; no one was exactly sure exactly what was supposed to happen first. Dominique reached out and took Jack's hand as she heard Flynn mumble, "I'm a lot less excited taking these back as I was when I took them here."

"Remember how it was me and you on the ride over?" Sarah asked him. "Someone else, too." She looked around. "I want to say it Erin."

"I do," Flynn said, smiling a bit. "Want to sail back over? Go out like we came in?"

Sarah smirked and shrugged as if to say, " _Might as well._ " Natalie, however, made a face. She and Sarah would clearly not be sharing a boat on the way back if Flynn had anything to do with it.

"I can't remember who I sailed over with," Jack said, looking around as everyone started to queue themselves up to catch a boat. "I think Katherine may have been there? Or I could be confusing her with Ellibit? Then some bloke." He shrugged it off. "I really have no idea. I was too overwhelmed with everything going on to pay attention."

"I was with Eleanor," Natalie said, causing Eleanor to smile at her. "After we'd met on the train. It was her, Kiera, and Marlowe. They were all friends beforehand and we all managed to squeeze into one boat." She laughed. "It was tight, then. We wouldn't dare now."

There was polite laughter at the image of the four of them packing into one boat, which tapered into an anticipatory silence as the queue lurched forward. Dominique let the silence simmer for a moment before offering up, "I sailed over with Louis."

Everyone looked at her and the sympathetic looks appeared immediately, though no one said anything. Natalie threw her an encouraging smile and Jack had reached over to rub her back, but the chatter mostly died until they reached the front of the queue.

"Two to a boat," said Filch as he stood there instructing them how to board. "May have been more the last time you made the trip, but you're much bigger now."

Sarah and Flynn stepped up and entered first, with Flynn shouting a rather obnoxious, "We're finished!" while rocking the boat in the process. Sarah had grabbed on to the side for dear life while telling Flynn to sit down and shut up. She immediately looked as if she regretted her decision to travel over with him.

Jack offered the next boat to Natalie and Eleanor, who climbed in neatly and readied themselves for their trek across the lake. He then turned to Dominique and gestured to the next boat. "I didn't ask if you wanted to ride back with me, but maybe, if you weren't busy…"

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him, pushing him along as they entered the boat. Filch hadn't been kidding when he said there wouldn't be room for more than two of them; even just she and Jack seemed rather packed in there. She could distinctly remember these boats being far bigger.

The boat magically pushed itself out from the spot it was docked, but stalled several feet out as it waited for the remaining boats to load. From what she'd heard, it wasn't until everyone in her year had boarded that the boats would finally make their voyage back across the lake–where many of the family members from the commencement were waiting to greet them. As soon as they stepped off onto the shore on the other side, it was officially done.

"I can't believe it's over," Jack said. "Actually over."

She nodded slowly. "It's a bit strange since all I ever knew in life was that I was going to Hogwarts. Now that that's over, I'm expected to pave my own way. I have no idea where to even start."

"You've got time to work it out," he offered as their boat heaved forward. There were a handful of cheers from some of the other boats; Dominique assumed one of them had to be from Flynn.

"I know, I just wish things had been different," she said quietly as the boat sailed along, passing through the ivy barrier that opened up to the rest of the lake and let them meet the exterior of the castle. Her eyes traveled up the length of the larger than life structure, settling on what she knew to be Gryffindor Tower. She searched for her window, though she knew already it was on the other side.

"I know you do," Jack said as he reached out to link his hand with hers. "But sometimes life is beyond our control."

"That's the number one lesson I've taken from this year."

They drifted in silence for a couple of minutes, both of them watching as the castle got smaller and smaller in the distance. She couldn't help but think about how Louis should have been there, experiencing this moment with the rest of them. Then she found herself angry with him because she should be enjoying this moment and not letting him pull her mood down. As much as she missed him and worried about where he'd gone, she had to realize he'd ultimately chosen to leave. He made that choice. He could have been here.

Upon finally reaching the other side, there were many cheers from the awaiting family members to greet them. As everyone climbed out of their boats, hugs were given, tears had started flowing, goodbyes were being said. Despite the fact that they'd all probably be headed to the same parties over the next few days and seeing each other shortly, there was something rather finalizing about this moment. When Dominique turned to look back out over the lake, she couldn't even see Hogwarts any longer. It was masked behind the treeline.

"We're done!" Sarah said, having rushed over with tears in her eyes but also a large smile plastered across her face. Dominique was by no means a hugger, but she knew Sarah wasn't going to let her get away from this. Sarah had flung her arms around her and hugged her as if her life depended on it. After letting go, she went and did the same thing to Jack.

"Uh, so, now, what?" Jack half joked.

Dominique did nothing more than shrug. For the first time in her life, she truly had no idea.

* * *

A month later, Dominique stared at herself in her bathroom mirror, her straight blonde hair brushed out as much as she could possibly brush it. She leaned in close to give her face one last quick inspection before standing back and nodding. She looked good. She was as ready as she'll ever be.

She walked out into the hallway, past the closed door to Louis' room and past her own room in the process. She'd spent much of the last month in that very room, leaving only occasionally to join her parents in relative silence down in the living room as they all forced themselves to keep preoccupied. Her mother had taken up needlepoint as a hobby and spent day after day charming needles and filling canvas after canvas. Her father had thrown himself deeply into his work.

The only other times Dominique really got up and about was to visit St. Mungo's once a week to talk to Healer Cane; to visit with Victoire, and sometimes Ted, when they came to the house; or to fly or stroll along the beach with Jack when he came around. He and she did spend most of their time out in the clearing in the woods near her house, allowing him to keep up with his Quidditch training. He'd thrown himself into things even harder than usual, and Dominique didn't know whether that was because of the impending Trials or because he–like her–just found comfort in busying himself with the familiar.

He was still getting a lot of attention from the German team that had contacted him earlier, and while they were determined, he'd decided he was going to go through the proper channel with the Trials and make a decision after that. Dominique tried not to think much about it, still holding out hope that something better—and closer—would come along. She wasn't sure she could handle the change of him leaving right now.

Healer Cane certainly had his work cut out of him lately, at least that's what she'd told him when she'd gone back to visit him that first time after graduation. He'd done nothing more than smile and encourage her to speak her mind and channel into the new parts of herself she was still learning to live with. It was the one hour a week where she truly felt at liberty to speak freely. With everyone else, everything was still too new and raw. Despite their claims otherwise, she still felt like her parents blamed her for not saying something sooner.

She'd made her way down the stairs to the foyer, where her sister was visibly working in the kitchen. Her parents weren't home—they usually took long walks along the beach in the afternoons these days—and Victoire had made it a habit lately to swing by almost daily to help in whatever way she could. Today was the first day Dominique wasn't busying herself by helping; for the first time in ages, she had plans to properly leave the house to be somewhere else but St. Mungo's.

"How do I look?" Dominique asked Victoire, who she realized was making dinner for their parents upon their return.

Victoire turned and looked Dominique up and down, smiling the moment she lay eyes on her. She had to be relishing the fact that she was asking for her approval on her appearance. This very, very rarely happened. "Turn around."

Dominique spun around. She was wearing dressy trousers and a flowy sort of blouse. It was far more dressed up than she would have liked to have been on a Saturday afternoon, but it was important she looked smart and put together right now.

Vicotire offered her a lazy looking thumbs up.

Dominique immediately wanted to kick her. "You're trying to wind me up."

"How does it feel?" Victoire smirked, charming the spoon to stir the sauce she was currently fretting over.

"Vic, I need you to be honest! This is important."

She laughed, turning to look at her once again. "You actually look lovely. I really like the blouse. And your hair looks fantastic. I always forget how pretty it is when you properly brush it out."

Dominique calmed at hearing that. "I don't look stupid?"

"One day you'll get it through your head that you don't look stupid just because you take the time to dress up a bit."

"I'm working on it," she muttered, checking the time. "But I need to go. Thank you again for coming over...again."

She shrugged. "You don't have to thank me. They're my parents, too. Plus, Ted should have just gotten off work and he'll be here soon."

That was good; she'd have company. Not that her parents needed supervision, but Dominique had convinced herself things were easier when either she or Victoire were around. It was something she was working with Cane, because she felt guilty for leaving even now—even just for the evening.

But tonight was important. Tonight was a big step.

"Please have fun," Victoire said, walking over to meet her in the foyer. "Or try to. And best behavior, of course."

Dominique let out an anxious breath. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to say."

"Not, 'fuck," she offered. "Perhaps put that one away for the night."

"I sometimes swear when I'm nervous," she said. "And I'm shit at small talk."

"You'll do fine," Victoire reassured her. "Just go with the flow. Don't fidget. Say please and thank you–"

"I do have manners," she said. "I'm not an animal."

"You're certainly not," Victoire said with a smile. "But you better go. It's nearly six."

"Shit," Dominique said, heading straight for the door at that comment. "I don't want to be late."

"Can't be late," Victoire agreed as she followed her to the door, seemingly enjoying the nervous display for whatever reason. "Be good."

"Always am," Dominique called over her shoulder, though she just as quickly Apparating a moment later, only to reappear hundreds of miles away in a narrow alleyway that she'd been instructed to use as a destination point. She'd never been here before and found herself sandwiched between two, rather tall, brick walls. There was little else to see–outside of Jack standing roughly ten feet away. He'd been leaning up against one of the walls as if waiting, and had looked up casually from something he'd been holding.

He smiled at her and she returned it as she walked forward and met him, already fidgeting a little anxiously.

"You look great," he said, pulling himself up off the wall. "Not that you had to dress up. I didn't."

He still looked perfectly presentable in brown trousers and a thin looking jumper, which she wanted to argue was slightly more dressed up than his usual wear, but she wasn't much in the mood to push it. "You don't have to. You're not meeting your parents for the first time. I'm looking to make a good impression."

"I think my parents are going to be so shocked by the fact that I can pull a girl as gorgeous as you are, that they really won't notice much else." He let his eyes grow a little wide. "I can promise you at least one joke from my dad about what kind of 'magic spell'—and he will call it a magic spell, which is a step up from when he used to call it a 'magic trick'–I must have you under to get you to give me the time of day."

She grinned a little as he led the way out of the alley and out onto a residential looking street, where semi-detached houses lined the way as far as she could see. There were a few kids running up and down the pavement, chasing after a football thing. Cars were coming and going down the street. An older couple was pushing their groceries on a small trolley. It was so very...Muggle.

"I don't do Muggle well," Dominique blurted out. "I forget what I'm not supposed to say or what I'm not supposed to use magic for. I only know so much about Muggle culture and references. I feel like I'm going to say loads of things wrong–"

"My parents are aware that we're wizards," he said with a laugh. "You don't have to hide it."

She sighed.

"In fact, it'll be good that you can help me explain the whole professional Quidditch scene to them because they really seem confused as to what I plan on doing for a living." He pulled a slight face. "My dad will also ask about why I can't ride the house broom around the garden if I'm apparently so good at it. He's got a lot of lame jokes. Be ready for that."

He suddenly stopped walking, which took her by surprise. She looked at him and noticed he was gesturing toward a walkway that led to a small set of stairs and a green door. "This is me."

She took an enormously large breath. She would be nervous enough seeing as this was the first time she had to meet someone's parents, but she was having to meet someone's Muggle parents and that was even more unnerving.

"Hey," he said, walking over to rub her arm affectionately. "There's no reason to be nervous. They're going to love you. Especially when they see how much I love you."

"But," she said, looking at him rather desperately, "what if I end up doing something stupid? What if I'm just some weird magical girl who accidentally swears or insults one of their habits or customs that I'm not aware of?"

He shrugged. "Then don't do any of that."

She let her expression turn exasperated. "Jack. Seriously."

"My parents are the nicest people in the world," Jack offered, clearly noticing her nervousness. "They're really excited to meet you." He smiled. "I talk about you a lot."

"Which just means you've set expectations I may not live up to."

"Who knew this would make you so nervous?" He smiled. "It's going to be fine. I know it is. But, for good measure" he suddenly held up his first, "Don't fuck it up."

She glanced from his hand to his face, her eyebrow raised. "We're just doing that for anything now?"

"Anything we need some extra encouragement on," he said. "Just like always. It's our thing."

She bumped his fist, finding it in her to pull a genuine smile out of her. She glanced back up at the green door, ready to conquer this first of many new firsts that the world would now throw at her. With one last deep breath, she said, "Don't fuck it up."


	27. The Epilogue

3 years later

Twenty more minutes.

Dominique had twenty minutes until her Portkey to France left. She still had to finish organizing the British National Quidditch team's "intent to participate" documentation or else loads of people were going to be pissed off. Without these documents in hand–and delivered that afternoon to the Ministère des Affaires Magiques Sport Department–the British National team could possibly be disqualified from participating in the Quidditch World Cup preliminaries in France the following month.

While the team most likely wouldn't be disqualified due to a paperwork error, if this wasn't done correctly the first time, it was going to take loads of extra work for her boss to fix things–which meant loads of extra work for her. With the actual World Cup in Kenya less than three months away, there was already way too much work to be done. She couldn't afford any extra work on her plate.

"Your Portkey leaves in nineteen minutes," said her coworker, a bloke over a decade older than her by the name of Trey. "This needs to be done."

"You think?" she snapped back, throwing him a look. The two of them usually got on well enough, but the World Cup season had put everyone on edge lately. They weren't even hosting any of the preliminaries this time, but yet it was still a hectic environment. She could only imagine what it would be like once the teams actually got in.

"Is the Irish team's stuff in order?"

"That's Kimber's job," Dominique said, speed reading over the last several pages. It was the sole reason she'd been given the job of double checking the documents to make sure everything was in order. She read faster than anyone else in their office.

"I'm going to ask her," Trey said anxiously, standing up from his desk which sat directly across from Dominique's. They were all in the same semi-large room; despite Kimber being on the opposite end, he could have easily shouted across to get her attention. Instead he chose to walk the twenty feet.

Dominique was on the last page, and everything looked in order. Every signature was in place. The roster had been set and confirmed; the coaches chosen. By the looks of things, the British team was ready for France.

"Done!" she shouted out, now placing the last sheet of documentation inside of the protective folder she'd use to transport it to France.

"Mine's ready as well," she heard Kimber call over, just as Trey returned to his own desk with the Irish team's folder in hand.

When he handed it to Dominique, he said, "So, we're good?"

"We are," she said as she began charming the folders and all of the other important documents that she may need to fit into her bag.

"You're sure?" Trey asked? "Every piece of parchment is accounted for? If we end up buggering this up and I have to spend weekends here—"

"I'm sure," Dominique said, throwing him a pointed look. "I swear. And Kimber never misses a detail, so I'm sure hers is perfect."

"It always is," Kimber called over. "How much time do you have?"

"Fifteen minutes," Dominique said, slowing a little once she realized she had some time and didn't have to rush. The Department of Transportation was just one floor above them, so it would only take her a few minutes to reach her Portkey. If she took the stairs and didn't wait for the lift, she'd be there even faster.

Trey collapsed into his chair, looking frazzled. "I can't help getting anxious about World Cup stuff. I've still barely recovered from hosting it a few years ago. You know, I didn't sleep for two months?"

"No one did," Kimber offered, just as another woman, Angela, who also worked in their space, looked up from her desk.

"Be thankful we only just hosted," Angela said. "We probably won't get it back for decades. I'm personally hoping not for a century."

Dominique was actually a little sorry she didn't know the insanity of hosting a World Cup, seeing as it seemed to be a common thread around here. It was as if the rest of her coworkers were trading war stories and she was privy to any of them. But she knew it was easier for her to say that seeing as she hadn't had to deal with any of it.

She'd been with the Department of Magical Games and Sports for about two and half years now. She'd been hired in October after she'd graduated, and she'd applied on a whim seeing as her N.E.W.T. scores had been near perfect across the board and she'd actually heard through Quidditch friends that they were looking for people.

She applied on her own, not calling in a favor from a famous uncle or well-connected aunt, though she'd be lying if she assumed her famous last name hadn't probably gotten herself bumped to the top of the pile. But even if that were true, she'd felt she'd earned the job on her own. At least she told herself that.

Her wealth of Quidditch knowledge was already impressive, and it had only grown now that her brain seemed to recall almost every article and statistic and broom regulation she ever came across. Combined with her N.E.W.T. score, she never once felt that her hire had been a favor to someone else. She'd already gotten three promotions since being here; the most recent having come at the start of the new year.

She was now working directly under one of the department's international Quidditch liaisons–her boss, a woman called Alicia Spinnet–whose region was France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Greece. She–along with Trey, Kimber, and Angela–were frequently dealing with any and all international Quidditch matters that dealt with those countries. Dominique tended to get almost every French assignment since Spinnet liked that she could not only speak French fluently without a spell, but also read it–which there currently wasn't an entirely accurate spell for.

It meant that she was almost always travelling; on any given week, she could easily be spending as much time in France as she was in England. She was the one who ran important documents, accompanied her boss to important meetings–or represented her when she couldn't be present–and attended the frequent French Quidditch matches. As it were, she was about to give up on British Quidditch entirely and switch over to French. She barely had time to enjoy anything outside of the French market anyway.

With just over ten minutes to go, she reached under her desk and pulled out a small duffle bag, checking it's contents quickly to make sure she had everything. Some clothes, overnight toiletries, her night potion–everything she'd need to spend the night in Paris.

"What's that for, then?" asked Trey, who seemed to be calmed down now. "Are you planning on hanging around Paris? You only have to drop the folders and go. You shouldn't have to stay."

"I made plans to stay," she said. "Remember, I'm going to the big exhibition match?"

"She only talked about it for weeks, Trey," Kimber said. "Where have you been?"

He gestured to his desk, "Up to my elbows in bloody paperwork." He looked back at Dominique. "And I didn't know you even cared about Paris Q.C. I actually thought you called them overrated."

"They are," she muttered, closing up her bag. "I'm not going to watch them."

"Then why…? Weren't you saying last week how all you wanted was a weekend home?" he asked, laughing at her. "That you're never at home. That you may as well live in France." He made a face. "You finally get the chance and you're still spending it in France?"

She smirked at him. "I still want nothing more than a weekend at home, but in this case, I made plans." She shrugged. "I'm meeting up with someone."

"Oh, is it a boy?" Kimber said with a funny smile, having stood from her desk to charm a nearby pot of coffee to fill her mug,

Angela "Oooh'ed" rather eagerly, always keen for a bit of gossip of that nature. Trey, however, let his eyes glaze over–as he often did when that sort of topic came up.

"I should have known," he said as he also stood, though he was grabbing parchment and looked to be headed off somewhere. "Just make sure those folders get into the right hands before you're off with whomever the new guy of the month is."

Dominique threw him a look. "It hasn't been like that in ages. And there weren't that many guys."

There'd been maybe three—over the course of a year and a half—she would have even considered worthy of remembering. That wasn't to say there weren't a few more she'd gone out with, but they never amounted to much.

It was true that prior to her most recent promotion, she'd certainly been living it up. Going out, dating around, enjoying herself, and honestly, having some meaningless sex. It had been mindless and fun, but it had all come to a rather screeching halt once at the start of the year once she took on her new position. She simply did not have the time to do anything more than work, travel, and sleep.

Dominique shook her head and muttered, "You all are well aware I haven't had any time for anything new lately. I'm in more of a relationship with the three of you than anyone I actually want to shag."

Trey laughed and said, "Welcome to the club" as he walked off, but Angela was still looking rather eagerly at her. "So, why the overnight bag if it's not about a boy?"

"Oh, it is," Dominique said matter-of-factly.

"You just said you haven't had time…?"

"And I haven't," Dominique countered. "But that changes tonight because it's been–" She put on a dramatic face, "sooooo long. At least six months since I've had sex." She paused to think about it. "Maybe seven? Either way, it's been ages and that ends tonight."

"Good for you," Kimber offered, raising her coffee mug up to her as if offering her a toast. "Hope you come back with a good story. I've missed your stories since you went and got boring like the rest of us."

Dominique chuckled. "I wasn't aware my sex life and random awful date stories were that much of a draw."

"I always lived vicariously through them." Angela offered. "Much more exciting than my evenings spent with my cats. Though, I decided last weekend to have a wedding for Mr. Buttons and Daisy, and it was such a wonderful affair. I've got photographs."

Kimber's eyes went wide as she threw Dominique a look. "This is why I need you to bring me back stories."

"Mr. Button's looked quite dapper in his dress robes," Angela was saying, now pulling photographs out of her purse. "Dominique, do you want to see before you go?"

She was already backing up toward the door, pointing to the wall clock that hung above the various Quidditch posters that were scattered around the room. "Another time. Must catch my Portkey. See you all Monday!"

"I hate you," Kimber said in a sing-song sort of tone, glaring at her as Angela shoved photographs onto her desk. "I'll go ahead and stay here with Mr. Buttons while you're off in Paris having sex."

Dominique threw her a cheeky smile and a thumbs up as she exited out into the corridor, where other members of the department were passing by and walking from office to office. There was a lot of action in the Gobstones corner today seeing as the British Championships were the following month. Dominique had to push herself against the wall to avoid a gaggle of them passing with boxes and boxes of...well, she wasn't sure. She tended to avoid the Gobstones crew.

"Weasley," called a voice, and just down the corridor a man called Barnes was attempting to flag her over. She fought the urge to roll her eyes since–while not her boss–he was on the same level as her boss; he seemed to think that meant he could boss around the entire Quidditch department instead of just his team. "When are the Trials this year?"

"August," she offered, doing a poor job hiding her sarcasm. They were always in August.

"No, shit," he said. "What are the dates?"

"I'm not on the Trials anymore," she said, gesturing to one of the offices down the hall as she started walking away toward the stairs. "Ask Randall or Maureen. I need to go–"

She'd stopped when her boss suddenly exited from a nearby office and looked at her. She seemed confused, checking her watch before looking back at her. "Shouldn't you be catching a Portkey?"

"That is exactly where I'm headed," she said, nodding as she picked up her pace and began heading toward the stairs. She could hear Spinnet call after her, "It's imperative those documents get there by five!"

"I know!" Dominique called behind her, pushing open the door to the stairwell and now scrambling up a level to the sixth floor. Luckily for her, the designated area to pick up Ministry Portkeys wasn't far from the stairs. She still had six minutes left once she checked the clock.

The Department of Transportation was far neater and more orderly than the department she'd just come from; it also seemed far more strict and less relaxed than the Sports Department. Everyone's robes were required to even look rather perfect and presentable, which was actually probably more of a Ministry norm than not. It was her department that were the laid-back, carefree rebels.

She walked past her Uncle Percy's office, and had the door not been shut, she would have stopped to at least have said hello. Given the amount of time she spent on this floor and traveling by Portkey in general, she and her uncle actually developed a rather chatty sort of back and forth these days. They certainly talked more now than they ever had when she was growing up, and while he was still fairly boring, he had his moments. Staying on his good side was crucial since she seemed to always be cutting it rather close with these Portkeys.

"Hey, Miles," she said, rushing up to a large reception type desk that seperated the rest of the office from the designated area where Ministry officials picked up their Portkeys. There were currently ten to fifteen other wizards and witches waiting around for their own.

"Hey, Nicki," said Miles, smiling instantly at her as he always did. Miles was a good friend to have, seeing as he and he alone entirely controlled the timing of these Portkeys. If you were a prat, he could easily make sure you missed it. She'd learned early to be nice. Throwing in a bit of flirting here and there didn't hurt.

"I see you're headed to France...again," he said, checking his list and handing her a sign-in sheet. "What's that? The eighth time this month?"

"At least," she said, signing her name to the sheet. "Probably should move there already."

"Don't do that. Then who am I going to look forward to seeing?"

Their standard back and forth. She smiled at him. "I would miss seeing that face of yours all the time. Guess I'll have to stay put."

He laughed a little and certainly blushed a touch, but he told her Portkey left in just under four minutes and to take a spot over in the third queue where two other wizards were waiting to presumably head to Paris as well.

Thankfully, her Portkey took her straight to a bottom floor reception area of the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. It meant very little travel time to her intended destination; she knew the drill well enough, having been coming here roughly ten times a month since starting this particular job. She walked out into their large, very open Atrium area, across the perfectly shiny white marble floor, and into the lift–which she took to the fourth floor.

It was there that she was greeted–by name–by Elise, the receptionist of their Sports and Games Department, who waved her by as if she was supposed to be there. She walked down the winding corridor, past many of the busy workers–most of whom dressed better than their counterparts back in her office–before stopping straight in front of the Commissioner of the French Quidditch Preliminaries' office. His name was Alex, she'd actually known and been friendly with him for years. He also had been recently promoted to his position. He, however, was in over his head considering the work load.

His assistant, who Dominique didn't recognize, rambled off quickly in French that he was busy sorting through the various countries' intent submissions. When Dominique held up the British and Irish teams, his assistant sighed. She clearly knew this was going to cause more work, but she took them and forced a smile.

Alex had looked up then, catching her eye. He smiled brightly for a moment, as if happy to see a familiar face, but that was before he saw what his assistant was holding. He then mumbled a quick, "Pour commencer, va te faire foutre!"

He'd told her to fuck right off, which caused Dominique to shrug and smile, even if his assistant pulled a quick face. She quickly apologized and again repeated how it's a stressful day, though Dominique didn't care. She'd told him that a time or two over the years, and took little offense to it. In fact, she threw him a thumbs up and told him she was happy to have made the deadline just in time.

She turned to leave, seeing that it was nearly five and she needed to get to the city's outer limits. She popped into the nearest bathroom and took the opportunity to change out of her work robes and into something far more casual and appropriate for a Quidditch match.

As she glanced down, it had been ages since she'd had a proper reason for this green and blue combination, but it instantly flooded her senses with lovely memories. She smiled as she checked herself in the mirror, immediately pulling her hair down out of its ponytail and combing it out until it looked straight and presentable. She even set about fixing her makeup, which she still didn't wear much of, but she'd certainly gotten the hang of the basics in the last few years. She was keen to look really nice. She wanted everything to be perfect.

Twenty minutes later, after stopping to greet several of the other faces she knew around the French Quidditch Department–and after having to defend her choice of blue and green over the clearly favored red and white that so many others were wearing that day–she Apparated to the outside of the city, finding herself immediately faced with an enormous looking stadium. Everywhere she looked, witches and wizards were excitedly gearing up for the match that evening. People were drinking, laughing, cheering, and–just as with the Ministry–everyone she could see seemed to be in red and white. She was clearly in the minority.

Large red and white banners hung from the tops of the stadium, all with pictures of each starter of Paris Q.C.–the home team– zooming in and out and all around. She passed a group of clearly very drunk men singing the team's song with their arms wrapped around each other, and ended up flipping one of them off when he jeered at her as she passed.

She'd gone to a box office window, where a plump looking witch immediately told her the match was sold out—just told the people who'd been in the queue before her. She was well aware. This exhibition match between Paris and Munich had sold out in minutes she'd been told. They were even talking about it back home with the hopes that the British and Irish League could host a similar exhibition match with their top team–which, unfortunately, still was Puddlemere.

Luckily, she had a ticket waiting for her. As soon as she'd picked it up from the witch, she noticed it was a fantastic seat. Centre Front. People would kill for this seat. She technically would have preferred a higher, cheaper, less coveted seat given that she still preferred to be up high where the Seekers were, but she wasn't about to complain.

She entered the stadium through one of the many entrances. It was still a bit early, but she was keen to catch some of the pre-match warmups. While it was true that she was always at some sort of Quidditch event, she didn't get to enjoy it as much as her job would lead people to believe. Work Quidditch was so different from leisure Quidditch, and she could count on two fingers the amount of leisure Quidditch she'd gotten to enjoy this year. Times like this, it was almost as if she was a kid again. The sounds of the brooms zooming by, the smell of the grass, the sights of the fans. It was a feeling that would always make her inexplicably happy.

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She'd been to this stadium loads of times and already knew exactly where she wanted to go first. A few people from the French Quidditch and Sport Department would be here, and she was especially keen to find a very particular one who could hopefully pull a few strings for her. She just needed to make her way to the V.I.P. area first.

The security wizard guarding the area recognized her from one of her other visits and smiled at her, which was very fortunate and would make this entire process that much easier. A few charming smiles, some flirty gestures, a couple of well-meaning questions about how he was doing, a name drop or two-he was already stepping aside to let her enter. She promised him she would only be a few minutes.

Upon exiting the corridor that opened up into the massive pitch, she let herself take in the sights of thousands of seats and the brightly lit pitch. The sun was disappearing behind the walls of the stadium now, casting a comfortable purple and orange glow over the sky. It was rather picturesque; a perfect night for Quidditch.

She immediately glanced around and saw the woman she'd been seeking sitting amongst a small group of posh looking wizards and witches, all of whom were drinking cocktails and laughing happily. It was exactly what she'd anticipated finding, and smirked at how predictable it all was. This was Quidditch for some people.

The woman in question was now standing, though she hadn't noticed Dominique yet. Marion, as she was called, held the almost identical position to Dominique in their respective Ministries, though she also happened to be dating the son of the owner of Paris Q.C.–hence the VIP treatment.

She and Marion had often ended up at all of the same events and conferences together, and they'd become good friends over the last six months. She was fun and well-to-do, and would constantly take her out when Dominique did stay in Paris. She was always introducing her to random, rich French men in the hopes of piquing her interest, but Dominique couldn't be bothered for more than a night or two. The two even looked very similar with their long blonde hair and fair features; on occasion people would ask them if they were twins. Marion always found it funny, but Dominique never quite felt comfortable when the topic of twins came up.

"Marion!" Dominique called out, putting on her smile as she approached her and her group of friends.

Marion looked up, shocked–but instantly pleased–to see her. She went to meet her halfway, though it wasn't until she drew nearer that Dominique realized she didn't seem entirely pleased with her choice of green and blue attire.

"What ze fuck are you wearing?" she asked, still greeting her with kisses on both cheeks. She was, naturally, in red and white.

"I think it's obvious," Dominique said with a smile. "Nothing against your lot, but I'm a Munich fan."

"Since when?"

"Few years now."

"'Ad I know zat, I would 'ave gotten you tickets," she said, her friendly smile returning. "Would not 'ave let you sit wiz us," she joked, "but I would 'ave found you somezing…"

"I'm doing alright," Dominique said with her own friendly smile. "May not have your amazing view, but I managed a Centre Front seat on the other end. I was only stopping by because I knew you'd be up here."

Marion threw her a curious look. "Centre front? Wow." She grinned at her. "I almost want to ask who you 'ad to fuck to get zat."

"Nobody, yet. But if all goes to plan..." She smiled at her, noting that she immediately looked intrigued. "It's not as scandalous as it sounds...For once." She looked around. "But since I have you, I was wondering if perhaps you or maybe…" She glanced over at Marion's boyfriend, "Jean happened to, perhaps, have an access pass that would get me down onto the pitch?"

Marion's eyebrow rose a little skeptically. "Why do you want access to ze pitch?"

"Because I'm hoping to surprise someone."

Marion continued to grin and she gestured up into the air, where the Paris team was currently finishing up their warm up. "Which one iz he?"

Dominique gestured to her outfit. "Do you really think I'd be wearing this if it was one of them?"

"Munich?" she asked, sound surprised. "Ze last Quidditch player I remember you tangled up with was zat Keeper from Toulouse…"

Dominique immediately stuck out her tongue. "Ug, stop. Don't...Piece of shit. I pretend he never happened." She looked back at her. "No, this one you've never met. I've mentioned him, though. The Beater? Wanted me to move to Germany?"

It was as if a wave of realization washed over her, "Right. Ze one you dated for years? Love of your life? He's ze one–"

"He is the one," Dominique said matter-of-factly, cutting her off there very purposely.

"Right," Marion said, still smiling at her. "I did not know you two still talked."

That was understandable. Marion and she had only been friendly for the last six months, and Dominique hadn't seen Jack in nine months...and one week, two days. It was easily the longest they'd ever gone without seeing each other since meeting back when they were eleven. His schedule was the only one busier than hers, and their powers combined, it left for essentially no time to see each other.

Their relationship was...complicated. They'd dated for two years, even after he'd moved to Germany to start his Quidditch career. He'd been pursued by several teams after his invitation year at Quidditch Trials, but none of the teams had offered him a deal as good as Munich had. He would start; his contract was worth a very decent amount of money; they would even provide housing. It was a dream offer.

Despite all of her previous reservations, Dominique had encouraged him to go. It was a single year contract, and if it didn't work, he would be able to move on. She'd even gone and spent several weeks with him in Germany before she'd started her job at the Ministry, but she knew very quickly that living there permanently wasn't something she could do. Jack was constantly at the pitch; she was often on her own, in a place where she knew no one and wasn't familiar with her surroundings. She missed home and her friends, but she loved Jack. Ultimately, they decided that when she started working, they would have to go long-distance.

And it worked for awhile. Jack was always so busy traveling and playing that it allowed her time to focus on starting her own career. She'd Portkey over to watch matches when she could and see him when he was free; he'd come home in the off-season, which became her favorite time of year. It was hard, but they made it work.

Until they didn't. Her job became more demanding with each promotion; he was next to impossible to get a hold of during the long Quidditch seasons. Portkeying over to a match every other week became every other month. They never saw each other.

It caused resentment and petty arguments that neither was trying as hard as they should be. He wanted her to move to Germany; she didn't. She wanted him to not re-sign with Munich when his contract was up; he wouldn't commit to a choice one way or another, which wasn't a good sign.

When his contract renewal did come up, it was even a better deal than before. His team was doing well in the standings, having made it to the German Championship that year, and she already knew he wanted to take it. She knew he liked it there, liked his team, liked his coaches, liked the city. He'd even started learning the language. She knew she could have given him an ultimatum: use his free agency to find something closer to home and save their relationship, or stay in Germany and lose it; but she never outright said it. She didn't have to. They both knew it.

A few months after he's re-signed, they'd both mutually decided to take a break. They still loved each other, but the distance was killing them. With her not moving and him now committed for another two years, it seemed the writing was on the wall. It had been the hardest decision she'd ever had to make and she knew it wasn't easy for him either. She'd cried about it for what felt like a month.

And while she'd gone a bit wild attempting to fill the void he'd left in her with random boys she never cared about one way or the other, she still did drop everything she was doing when he returned. Their breakup had been hard, but cordial; when he'd come home in the off season, they would spend weeks together as if everything was as it always was. She'd actually dumped a nice enough guy she'd been casually dating once when she knew Jack was going to be home–and she never felt guilty about it. He was still the person she wanted to be with most. She just couldn't have him all the time.

This time, though, it had been nine months. Her new position had forced her to miss that last week he was home due to a huge pre-World Cup conference in Spain that her entire office had been forced to attend. She kept writing and telling him she would like to make it to one of his matches–especially since his team was now the number one team in Germany–but every time she tried, something came up.

It was beginning to feel impossible, until she finally had a bit of luck when Paris Q.C.–the best French Quidditch team–decided to host an exhibition match against Munich for bragging rights. Dominique was going to attend if she had to curse people to get there, but tickets had sold out before she'd even gotten to try to get any. She had already been prepared to use every resource she had; ask Marion to help her, but before she could, she'd gotten an owl from Jack. He'd set aside a ticket for her. He knew how much time she spent in France. She had no excuse and better come. He really missed her.

"I'm sure Jean can obviously work somezing out to get you down on the ze pitch," she said, turning on her heels to walk back to where Jean was still happily chatting with his friends; shouting and carrying on in a way only these showy, rich boys knew how to do.. Dominique wanted to walk over and say hello–she'd always gotten on well with him–but the fact remained she was currently dressed to actively root against the team he would likely own one day. It made things a touch awkward.

Luckily, she was rather good at charming sports banter these days. After entirely too much gentle ribbing for her "poor choices" in teams, followed by a clear attempt by one of Jean's friends to hit on her despite Marion clearly explaining to the group of them how Dominique was specifically here to see one of the players, Jean did easily come through with an All Access Pass that she could use. For good measure, he even gave his friend shit for thinking he stood a shot with her when she clearly had a Quidditch player waiting for her.

"Sorry about, Rapahel," Marion said as she handed her the pass. "He zinks money buys him a personality." She gave her arm a quick squeeze. "Well, I would invite you out wiz us tonight, but it seems you have plans." She smiled. "Hopefully, some private plans."

"If by private you mean naked," she said, putting on a playful smile. "Here's hoping." She held up the pass. "But thank you again for this."

She shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal; she was now glancing out to the pitch. "All right. Now which one iz he?"

Dominique looked out as well. The Munich team had arrived to warm up at that very moment. None were in uniform yet–they were in more casual blue and green warm-ups robes–and they all seemed to be doing their own stretching routines or jogging around a bit to loosen up. They didn't even have their brooms on them, seeing as some sort of equipment manager was off to the side organizing everything and getting it all ready.

With their staff and coaches, there were probably twenty people out there now moving around and getting familiar with the conditions. Even with all of the people, it took Dominique no time at all to spot Jack. He was stretching his back and talking to someone who looked to be a coach of some kind.

She involuntarily smiled. He'd cut his hair since she'd last seen him; it was far shorter than usual and didn't have the extra inch or two she was used to running her fingers through. Otherwise, he looked the same. Still in great shape. Still walking about with the anxious pre-match energy about him. Still as handsome as she remembered.

She pointed. "The one standing next to the benches. He's just been handed his bat."

Marion was nodding to say she saw him. "Seems cute." She shot her a funny smile. "But when are yours ever not?"

At the same moment, Jean had shouted over to also ask Dominique to identify which one was hers now that Munich was out there. When Marion answered for her and pointed Jack out, they'd started laughing at their friend who'd been hitting on her earlier. Dominique could just make out one of them taunting Raphael about how he stood no chance against a professional Beater, and how Quidditch players pulled the best looking girls.

"You better get down there and see if you can say 'ello," Marion said, reaching out to fix a stray piece of Dominique hair.

" _I_ want to go and see him," Dominique said. "But the Quidditch fan in me is wondering if I shouldn't distract him."

Marion grinned rather mischievously. "I zink you should definitely distract him."

"Of course you would," Dominique said, rolling her eyes. "You want Paris to win."

She smiled in a very, 'guilty as charged' sort of way as she turned to rejoin her friends. "Your choice. You did come all zis way for him. A quick 'ello won't hurt. But you're welcome to stay here until ze match starts. Jean ordered food!"

As nice a food did sound, Dominique wasn't particularly interested in hanging out with the uber rich, French kids' club. Marion and Jean were good people, but the rest were annoying and pompous. For her, Quidditch wasn't fancy food in a VIP section, it was the cheap seats up in the air and some tasty, but terrible, snacks. It was Jack on his broom, which she'd now watched once he'd taken off on and was flying around the stadium.

She thanked her friend once more before telling them she would see them soon, and while she still hadn't decided whether she should be selfish and go distract Jack because she desperately wanted to see him, she still chose to use her pass to get down on the pitch level to walk around and explore.

She watched Jack and his partner knock around Bludgers while shouting signs back and forth at each other. The Chasers were flying dizzying loops around everyone as they lobbed Quaffle after Quaffle from one person to the next. She watched the Keeper act like a bloody brick wall, letting nothing pass him. She watched the Seeker fly high up into the air, only to plummet back down into an impressive dive and nearly miss the ground. He'd done it by design, and it had been impressive. While she'd obviously come for Jack, there was still something about the Seeker position that always drew her attention straight toward it. She couldn't help it.

She didn't get on a broom much these days, though it was still one of her favorite activities to do in her downtime. Her flying still wasn't anything impressive, but she'd gotten herself to a point where she could at least participate in pick up games with her family members and friends. She'd actually volunteered to be the Keeper when they played, mostly because it required the least amount of flying, and she'd gotten fairly decent at it as long as she was playing people who also weren't particularly skilled at Quidditch. If she were up against someone like her cousins James or Rosie, however, she got pummeled.

After coming across a man selling programs, she bought one and began flipping through the glossy pages that were heavily featuring Paris Q.C. Everyone was looking fierce and determined in each photograph as they zoomed around their pages; their stats and biographies featured on the side. Dominique flipped to the back, having gone a few pages too far, but immediately stopping on a page featuring Jean and his family, all smiling widely in the photograph as a blurb about their charity efforts ran next to them.

She finally found the Munich section, which also had photographs of each player, though they seemed to be more of the standard headshot variety and not the fancy full page, color tributes. She found Jack's immediately, smiling at his serious looking photo–with his hair a touch longer and more what she was accustomed to. His name, his stats, even where he was from were next to his face; she read it at least four times before she glanced back up at the sky to watch him crack a Bludger across the pitch.

She killed another half an hour exploring before she eventually meandered down toward the Munich end of the stadium. It was there that she found herself behind a small barrier that had been setup to separate equipment and personnel from reaching the pitch. It also kept back fans, who–if they were lucky or wealthy enough to get passes down here–were allowed to line up against it to hopefully greet and speak to the players as they came and went from the changing rooms.

When the Munich team landed after their warm up and were preparing to go back to the changing rooms, the fans had started clamouring and shouting for the attention of the players. They were waving programs and Quaffles, Quidditch cards and notebooks at them in the hopes someone would stop and sign something.

Dominique used to know the whole team, but there had been changes since she and Jack had split, so she wasn't familiar with everyone. A newer female Chaser had walked over to sign autographs, followed by their Keeper, a big bloke called Elias. Each signed a couple before walking off, only to be followed by their Seeker, a man called Werner who had always been Jack's closest friend in Germany. Dominique had almost wanted to call out and say hello, but she resisted. He would recognize her, but what was there to say? Hi? Good to see you? Enjoy your match?

The other two Chasers walked straight by in conversation, despite the calls from fans to please stop. Jack had been one of the last ones to land, and he and his Beating partner–who was new to the team this season, but familiar to Dominique–were chatting as they walked off,

Louis Richter, or Tree Trunks as she still referred to him, had been an invitation Beater out of Durmstrang the year she and Jack had first attended the Trials. He was an absolutely stellar Beater, and had broken Beating records left and right in his first few seasons. Munich had paid a fortune to acquire him this season and it had paid off. They'd gone from being a top team to being _the_ top team in Germany. It was much of the reason they were undefeated and here today playing Paris Q.C. Munich was being touted at the unbeatable team at the moment, and everyone wanted a chance to prove them wrong.

Dominique had no idea where Jack's head was in all of this, considering he was now essentially living in the shadow of a Beating phenom, but from everything Dominique could tell, they had a good rapport. Commentary always said they worked flawlessly together and were a great team, with Richter knocking everything down and Jack doing all the clean up. But she also knew Jack was better than that. She wasn't sure how keen he was to be in that position.

But he was smiling now as he and Richter, who was even larger than Dominique remembered him being four years ago, approached the group of waiting fans. Seeing Jack so close now made her heart skip; she instantly smiled when she saw him laugh about something. She really would have thought after all these years, she would get over that swooping feeling she got in her stomach when she realized how cute he was–but she never did. It was always there.

There were many calls for Richter to please sign something, but with nothing more than a polite wave, he walked right past. Jack, she knew, could go either way. He may easily follow Richter or he could stop and sign a few programs. She decided she was going to let him make her choice for her. If he stopped, she'd try–and she would _really_ have to try given all the people–to say hello. If he kept walking, she would wait to find him after the match.

A little girl waving a program seemed to have gotten his attention, and with a lazy smile, he walked over and took it and started signing it. That prompted about twenty other people to shove their things in his face and he actually signed quite a few of them. Dominique noticed a little boy, about six, standing near the end and barely clearing the barrier with how small he was. He was waving a program rather desperately, hoping for anyone to stop. She had to wonder where his parents were, but she took a deep breath and decided to try and kill two birds with one stone.

"Bonjour," she said to the boy, who looked quickly at her. She offered to help him get it signed, telling him she knew a few tricks. The little boy looked skeptical, but she held up a finger as if to say, " _watch this."_

Jack looked as if he was finishing up–she knew that polite, brush off expression–so it was now or never. She was hoping her voice alone would stop him, but she knew if that failed, speaking English–in a sea full of French and German–would at least get her a glance.

"Hey, Jack, can I have your autograph?" she yelled, leaning herself across the barrier.

She'd been right about the English because it got her a polite smile and a quick glance. He clearly hadn't recognized her based on her voice alone, but the glance turned immediately into being pleasantly surprised; the polite smile suddenly became a hundred percent more genuine. He'd practically thrust someone's program back at them before coming down toward her.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd be down here?" he asked, sounding rather shocked and smiling from ear to ear as he approached.

"Hey, handsome," she said, smiling entirely too much as well as he leaned across the barrier to hug her, picking her up every so slightly. He smelled like sweat and Quidditch and...him. She didn't want to let go. She knew she had to, though; she also knew that was all she was getting at the moment since they were currently in front of thirty or so onlookers–not counting everyone who was sitting in the stands. She instead said, "Long time."

"Far too long. I didn't think I'd get to see you until later," he said, running a hand through what hair he hadn't cut off. From beside her, several other people were still attempting to get him to sign something. It suddenly reminded her about her little friend.

"Full of surprises," she said, now holding up the little boy's program. "I know you're busy, but how about that autograph?" She gestured toward the boy. "It's for my friend here. I used him as an excuse to talk to you, so I at least owe him that."

Jack took the program, but looked at her rather oddly. "You never need an excuse to talk to me." He smiled at the boy, who seemed happy to finally have someone stop. Jack scribbled down his name and handed it back, which caused the little boy to mumble out a timid sounding, "Merci," before he ran off.

"I didn't get a 'merci," Dominique muttered, throwing Jack a funny smirk. "I did all the work."

He didn't comment on that. He was just smiling at her.

She smiled back, attempting to ignore all the people shouting beside her for Jack's attention. Despite the fact that the stadium was now starting to fill up with thousands of people, for at least a brief second, she wanted to pretend it was just the two of them. "We're still on for after?"

"Yes, absolutely." he said. "It might be a bit mad around here after trying to connect, but I told you where I was staying?"

She nodded, noticing an official type from his team was now headed over directly toward him. "I can meet you there. I'll wait at the bar." She gave him a playful shove. "Now go win this. I'll buy you dinner if you do."

"Sounds fair," he said, as the official came up behind him and tapped on his shoulder, telling him and the fans that he needed to go. He pulled an apologetic face–like a child being pulled away by their mother as he stepped back off the barrier.

"Don't fuck it up," she called after him.

He laughed and mouthed "Don't fuck it up" back to her, before he was now ushered away. He threw a quick smile and wave at the fans who were still trying, rather relentlessly, to get autographs.

With that Dominique checked the time. The match would be starting soon and she should probably be getting to her seat. She glanced around the giant stadium, which was now beginning to fill up from top to bottom full of spectators. It didn't happen often anymore, but for a brief moment, she had the same thought she'd had since she was a small girl. How amazing it would be to play professional Quidditch in front of all of these people.

* * *

The mood around the stadium was fairly somber after the match, seeing as Munich had beaten Paris Q.C. in a bigger blowout than even Dominique could have anticipated. Something had happened to Paris' Keeper; she'd fallen apart and had just begun to get hammered. When it had come down to the Snitch catch, Munich didn't even need to catch, though they did with an impressive dive catch. The match was over after two hours and twenty minutes.

Jack had played well, but it was hard to outshine Richter, who Dominique was starting to wonder if he was the best Beater she'd ever seen. She was also fairly certain Jack had hurt himself about three quarters of the way into the match when he'd connected with a Bludger and it took a bad bounce, connecting hard with his right hand. It couldn't have been too bad since he'd kept playing, but she'd noticed he'd kept gripping it when he had the chance.

She'd left the stadium quickly, seeing as she wasn't in the mood to listen to the angry drunks talking about how the match had been unfair and complain away their evenings. She'd Apparated back toward central Paris, where she entered into a small, concealed wizarding district that reminded her very much of Diagon Alley. It was full of shops and cafes, with people meandering around—many of whom had also clearly come from the match given the outfits and the general attitudes. Some were looking to lament, but most were looking to find a pub to salvage the rest of their night.

There was a hotel, called the Magique, also owned by Jean's family, that was located directly at the end of the busy boulevard. Dominique entered and headed straight to the bar area, smiling at the bartender as she ordered a glass of Firewhiskey, neat. The bartender seemed surprised, but went to pour her drink. She was used to that look. They all tended to expect someone like her to order a glass of Chardonnay.

She'd taken to flipping through her program once more, reading the stats and articles. She'd only made it halfway through her drink and four pages in before some older looking bloke, who looked older than her father, commented on how he couldn't believe she was drinking whiskey before throwing some terrible pick-up line at her.

She sighed. Instead of telling him to fuck off, she instead decided to play the English tourist game with him. Why not? She had time to kill. The key was not to smile. If she smiled, they felt they were making headway.

"Sorry. I don't speak French."

He was pointing at her drink and making gestures to signify how he'd like to buy her one, but she continued to play dumb–even ramping it up a bit. "That is my drink, yes. Well spotted. And that's a stool. That's a glass. That's a napkin."

He was getting frustrated by the language barrier. All the while, she understood everything he was saying–how he couldn't believe she didn't get what he was trying to say; was she an idiot? She just continued to stare blankly at him.

He muttered something about annoying English people, but threw her a polite smile, as if to say he gave up, before draining his drink and leaving the glass on the bartop. He walked away after that, and Dominique rolled her eyes before returning to her program. From nearby, the bartender mentioned how he thought her French was pretty good before. She threw him a lazy smile as she flipped the page, ordered another drink, and commented–all in perfect French–on how it should be since she'd been speaking it since she was small.

She'd managed to get halfway through the program–and rebuffed two more men who seemed to find a girl alone at the bar as some sort of prize to be won–before yet another person took the seat beside her. She sighed heavily and didn't even look up. "I don't speak French."

"Yes, you do," said Jack and he reached across her and picked up her drink.

She smirked at him, watching as he sipped it and set it back down. "Help yourself."

"I thought you stopped drinking Firewhiskey?" he said as he turned and sat with his entire body facing her.

"For maybe a minute," she said. "But I never considered it a thing."

"You'd switched over to vodka and wine for a while there," Jack said as the bartender appeared. He pointed at Dominique's, as if to indicate he wanted the same thing, though turned to her and said, "You know my French is rubbish."

She confirmed to the bartender that Jack would like that same thing, which made him nod and go off to fetch it. When he'd returned with the drink, he quipped about how she wasn't afraid to show off her French in front of this one.

"Yeah, I think I'll keep this one," she said, more for Jack's benefit than the bartender. They exchanged smiles, which they were having a hard time not doing.

"How you been, Nic?

"Busy," she offered. "So, bloody busy. You have no idea."

"I haven't seen you in months. We've never gone months. I have some idea."

"I know," she said, sipping off her drink. "I feel as if I've lived a lifetime since we last talked. How are things with you?"

He launched into how busy he'd also been, but it quickly segued into talk about the match that night and him recapping parts of it. She chimed in her opinion on some things she'd seen, and asked if he'd actually injured his hand or if she was seeing things. He'd apparently broken four fingers, though it was fixed up by a medic after the match. He seemed amazed she'd noticed since he'd thought he'd done a good job playing through the pain.

As he spoke, she wanted to reach out and touch him. Put a hand on his thigh or do any of her usual flirty gestures, but she knew she couldn't until she knew for sure the answer to a question that neither of them ever came straight out and asked. It was honestly something that kept it up at night when she thought about it; she genuinely feared for the day when she asked him this and his answer was anything other than, "No."

"So," she said, draining her second drink in order to give herself the courage to finish this sentence. She braced herself. "Are you...seeing anyone?"

He sipped off his drink and it was the longest four seconds of her life. When he looked back at her, he shook his head. "No."

She visibly exhaled, letting it be known that she'd been holding her breath until he answered that. It made him laugh before he put his arm on the back of her chair, making them feel rather close. "Please don't let this be the part where you tell me you are."

She looked him in the eye as she shook her head, Now that everything was out in the open, she was free to shamelessly flirt her face off. She chose to reach up and play a bit with his new, shorter hair–happily noting that it was still just as soft. "I honestly don't think I could be around you if I was seeing someone. I always get pulled right back in."

She was watching herself play with hair but she could feel his eyes watching her face. In a low voice, he said, "I've missed you."

She lowered her hand to meet his eyes. "I've missed you, too."

She leaned forward then and kissed him softly on the lips. It was quick and barely lingered, but it was something she always found herself doing every time they reconnected to test the waters. Even if they were both single and all the signals and signs were there, she knew it was this small gesture that set the tone for the rest of their night together. She always wanted him to know straight away that she wanted him from the jump. She didn't want it to be a question.

"So," she said, backing off a bit now that she'd laid some groundwork. She reached over and took a sip of his drink since hers was gone. "What's the plan tonight?"

"Whatever you want to do," he offered, still looking rather wrapped up in the moment. "If you want to go out, there's a club where a lot of the team went."

She shook her head, feeling suddenly flooded with the desire to be alone with him. Even something as innocent as her hand on his arm was doing things to her. It had been ages since she'd been with someone, and even longer since she'd been with him. The fact that she wouldn't have to do any explaining or guiding through what she wanted or liked was already exciting enough. "I'm looking for less people, not more. Less clothes, too."

He threw her a look that was a mixture of amusement and complete compliance. Without objection, he was reaching into his pockets for money to pay the tab. "I did say whatever you wanted to do."

"Turns out, that's you."

The bartender had returned after Jack had flagged him down, but all Jack managed to say was, "Yeah, I don't know how much this is," before throwing more than enough money down. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. "You can just take it."

It had been rather hard to keep their hands off of each other in the lift up to his room, and they'd barely made it through the door before they were pulling off each other's clothes and tripping over themselves to get into bed. Even just kissing him felt like it could get her off, though it didn't. She did ultimately require a few more parts of him working in and around her own to get the job done.

They did it twice, nearly back to back, before finally deciding to give themselves a proper break since Jack claimed that he needed to eat something. The obvious joke was made that they could work on that if they went a third round; while he readily agreed, he also said he needed actual food considering he'd burned an immeasurable amount of energy over the last few hours.

"I don't know what burns off more," Jack said as he lay beside her in bed. "You or Quidditch."

"Probably Quidditch right now," she said, turning over to face him. "I'm rusty."

"There was nothing rusty about that," he said, reaching up to rub his face in a dazed sort of way. She noticed then–for the first time since getting him undressed–that his entire right arm was covered by a tattoo sleeve. It wasn't a surprise–he'd been working on that sleeve for ages–but the last she'd seen it was only half complete.

She grabbed his arm to examine it. "You actually finished it."

"Yeah, about a month ago," he said, letting her explore the different parts. showing her a very detailed collection of art that had obviously been done by someone very skilled. He'd been putting it together piece by piece since they'd graduated, but his first had still been that he'd gotten on his bicep back when they were teenagers. Now, it was surrounded by all sorts of other things–Quidditch references, a lion, and an Irish flag. She's gotten up close and personal views at all of them over the years–all but the new parts.

"Looks really great," she offered, glancing back at him. "I know how much you wanted that finished. Any plans for more?"

He pulled his arm back to examine it himself, now rubbing it absently. "I only ever wanted the sleeve, so I think I'm set. But who knows If I'll change my mind." He smirked at her and glanced down at his chest. "I changed my mind once."

She grinned. Jack had one other tattoo, and it was a small Snitch to the left of his sternum. The only reason he'd gone off his arm for that one was because–as he put it to the artist who'd done it for him–he wanted it as close to his heart as he could get it.

She'd also gotten one that day after he'd gotten his, and it had all been rather impulsive. Hers was a Beater's bat hitting a Bludger on the side of her ribcage. They'd done it just before she'd gone back to England after he'd moved to Germany to draw some sort of connection to each other. She remembered it hurt something awful; Jack had said his was the most painful of any the ones he'd received thus far, but she felt it was rather fitting. They put up with a lot to keep themselves connected. Her tattoo and their relationship had its highs and lows, but they'd ultimately been left with something beautiful. It summed them up rather nicely.

"Do people ever ask why you got a Snitch when you're a Beater?"

"Rarely," he said. "You'd have to get fairly close to me with my shirt off to notice. But if someone does, I tell them the story."

She made a face. "You tell them the story? You're telling me if you've gone and picked up some girl and brought her back to your place, and she asks you about it, you tell her the truth?"

Without missing a beat, Jack shrugged and said, "What girl?"

Her eyebrow rose and her expression called complete bullshit on that. They stared at each other, with her face doubtful and him now attempting to smile rather innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about?"

She smirked and shook her head before pulling herself up to sit. "Absolute rubbish. But I can appreciate the answer."

He laughed a little as he also pulled himself up and slid to the side of the bed. She enjoyed the view for a moment–he was really in terrific shape–before he retrieved his boxers and pulled them on. He glanced around as if looking for something. "We can get food brought here. We don't even have to leave. We should do that."

He truly had one track mind when he was hungry. "You really must be starving."

"Just goes to show how much you mean to me that I didn't make us stop and eat first because I'm bloody famished. I'm not even kidding. My stomach is eating itself right now."

"Then get food," she laughed, watching as he found a menu for food and exclaimed rather happily when it featured an enchantment to read in multiple languages. He sat on the edge of the bed to look it over, and she took the opportunity to move forward, hug him from behind, and let her chin rest on his shoulder while she also read over the menu he was holding. "You did win, which means I owe you dinner."

He shook his head. "The team will pay for it. Get whatever you want." He turned to look at her and added, "I'll just have to take a rain check on you buying me dinner the next time I can convince you to come see me," before he gave her a rather playful kiss on the cheek.

It was such a strange feeling to be so completely enamored and in love with someone–someone who felt the same way–but there was always an end in sight. This was how they'd been functioning since they split up; it's what made moving on to someone new impossible because nothing could measure up to this.

This was all she wanted all of the time; he was the only person who could make her feel this way. Moments like this, she was ready to quit her job and move to Germany to be with him–no questions asked. But she had to remember that, while the feelings were always real, the perfectness of the situation was fleeting. They could be perfect for a day or two; they always were. It was when real life–their schedules, their jobs, their lives–set in that the problems came back. As long as they were living the lives they were currently living, this couldn't work.

Still, as she sat there with her arm around him, feeling the warmth coming off his back and the smell that was intrinsically him–she couldn't help but think how sacrificing the rest of it would be worth it.

Jack had filled out the card and essentially ordered almost everything. It only took about ten minutes in between when he tapped it with his wand and sent it flying under the crack under the door to reach the kitchens and when everything showed up. She'd put on a dressing gown to eat since, while she was pretty content to do a lot of things naked, eating was not one of those things.

"How's the family?" Dominique asked as they sat at the table near the window. Their view outside was of the busy street area below, where it was clear some people were still out celebrating their night after the Quidditch match.

"Good last I spoke to them," he offered, setting in on a second plate of food after having finished the first. "Mostly the same. My brother's band is touring Canada."

She made a face as if to hear that was a nice surprise, though Jack quickly added, "But don't ask me the last time I saw them perform." He seemed to think about it. "I think we were still together. I think you were with me at that show."

"I haven't seen them in ages, so that means it's been way too long," she said, picking a chip and chewing on the edge.

"How about your family? How are your folks?"

She shrugged. "Same as always. Though, my dad's been working in Egypt a lot this year helping to specialty train curse breakers, so he and my mum have been spending time over there. Part of me still thinks my dad is keen to move there." She popped her chip into her mouth. "Wouldn't surprise me if he's tried to put it in my mum's head, but she doesn't want to leave home in case Lou–"

She stopped. Even if it was Jack, who knew everything and she'd told everything to, it still–three years later–was never easy to bring up this topic.

"...in case Louis ever decides to turn up," she finished.

Jack's body language stiffened slightly. Louis was always a touchy subject since no one had really heard from him since the day he left Hogwarts roughly three years ago. Victoire had gotten an anonymous owl about three months after he'd left with just the words, "I'm fine" written on it in handwriting that very much looked like Louis', but no one could be certain. Then again, who else would send her an owl like that? And Dominique had to ask, why her? Why had she been the one he'd messaged?

But since, nothing. Everything there was to talk about him had been spoken; they were only rehashing the old feelings and stories at this point. She'd had the conversations with Jack, her parents, her sister, and Healer Cane. She rarely even brought up that she had a brother anymore, though when it did pop up, she rarely gave details to people. As far as those people knew, she simply had a brother who lived far away that she never saw. She left it at that.

No one even knew if he were alive or dead now, though she always suspected–just as she always had–that he was still very much alive. She had the same sixth sense she always had when she'd considered that question–she simply just knew he was. Either way, his selfishness at disappearing without a trace had changed all of them in some way.

Her mother had seemed broken for that first year; she'd actually started going to speak to a Healer that Healer Cane had suggested to her–one that dealt with loss and grief–and Dominique truly believed that had been one of the few reasons she was functioning as well as she was these days. While she still had moments where it was obvious how much it all still bothered her, on the whole, she was doing well enough.

Her father had put on a better act than her mother, but it was clear a part of him was incomplete and lost. He became more of a workaholic, and Dominique wished he'd have gone to talk to someone as her mother had, but he always resisted. He was apparently handling it his own way. He and Louis were very clearly cut from the same cloth.

As for her, she'd mourned her brother as if he was dead, because she'd realized before he even disappeared that the person she'd always known was gone. It had taken her years of talking with Healer Cane–which she still did, though not as frequently as she had in those early days–to come to grips with the fact that Louis made his choice and she couldn't blame herself. She had to live her life and follow her path. As much as she'd invested her path being intertwined with Louis' for the rest of their lives, that wasn't her reality. He was off on his own and she had to do the same. She had to stop giving him the power to control her feelings and moods, even from hundreds–or perhaps thousands–of miles away.

But she still thought about him every single day; often several times a day. The Ministry was filled with so many people who reminded her of him in one way or another. There was even a person in the Transportation department that sounded exactly like him. Every time she heard a Nymph Chasers song, every time she ate a Pepper Imp, every time she found a good book, she thought of him. Every time she met a guy with a nice smile who oozed charm and always seemed to know the right thing to say, she would be quickly turned off. It was the fastest way for her to be immediately uninterested given how much it reminded her of him.

Jack cleared his throat. "I started having this dream about him over the last few months."

Dominique looked across the table at him. She couldn't relate, having spent most of her life never dreaming and now, these days, having any sort of nighttime vision stamped out by the potions she took. Still, she found herself rather jealous. "Oh, yeah?"

"I have this recurring dream that he'll pop up one day at a match of mine," he said, seemingly finally having had enough to eat as he put his fork down. "It's after a win, and then I look up and he's just standing there smiling at me. It's as if nothing ever changed between us." He looked away. "Then I wake up."

Jack didn't speak to it much, and she assumed it was because he felt he could never compare his loss of a best friend to her loss of her twin brother. But Louis' disappearance had affected all of them so deeply. She smiled a little weakly at him, but then found herself looking out the window–down at the pedestrians walking all up and down the boulevard. She wanted to change the subject.

"Vic's moving to Australia next month."

Jack stared at her, looking rather shocked. "Seriously?"

"She is. For two years. Got a great opportunity to study some ruddy old runes that were recently discovered. She's impossibly excited." She made a face. "My parents and Ted, less so."

"Wait, what is Ted doing?"

She laughed a little as she glanced out of the window. "Apparently proposing. Go figure. She's moving away and that's when–after a hundred years of them dating–he's decided to finally do it."

Jack looked confused, his expression begging her to elaborate. "So, he's going with her?"

She shook her head, knowing she needed to clarify. "Eventually, but he can't at the moment. Not right away. He's obviously got his research and everything at home, but I know he's looking into it. He's planning on it."

"Good for them."

She nodded absently. "Yeah. He can't pick up as quickly, but the whole thing has made him want to officially take the next step. I know a part of him still feels they're really young, but it's not as if they're not going to do it. I could have told them they'd end up married when they were ten."

Jack laughed. "I was sort of wondering what they were waiting for. They're just delaying the inevitable."

"I think it's because they know they eventually will; they feel they can take their time. But I told both of them that–speaking from experience–the distance can be so hard."

Jack's eyebrows quickly jumped up; his expression saying that was definitely true.

"And I told Ted that at least when he proposes, they could ride that excitement until he could make arrangements to join her over there. It would make the separation easier."

Jack seemed to find something amusing in what she said, and was making a funny kind of face. "So, are you saying I should have…?"

She immediately shook her head rather rapidly, realizing. "Oh, Merlin, no. We were what? Nineteen? No. We weren't ready for that." She laughed. "I love you, but...I'm not ready for that."

Jack stared at her rather blankly. One again she realized what she'd said seconds after she'd said it. They weren't supposed to say the "L" word anymore since they weren't together. Not that it necessarily stopped them–it came up on occasion during sex in the heat of the moment when things felt so amazing and they were on the brink and saying 'I love you' was the only way to encapsulate it–but this wasn't the moment. This was real time; normal time. When they used the word love, it made all of this so much harder to deal with. Even if they both knew and felt it, they weren't supposed to say it.

She closed her eyes and sighed. This is what happened when she let herself get too comfortable around him. Her guard dropped off and went so far down, it may as well have been tumbling the several stories to the ground below them. "I…" She stammered. "It just came out. I…"

"I love you, too.".

As good as it felt to hear, and it absolutely did, all she could do was rub her face and say, "We're not supposed to–"

"We feel what we feel," he said as he stood up, still staring at her. "How we feel has never been the issue."

"Right, the bloody distance is the issue–"

He was nodding slowly, looking rather distracted. "What if I tried to come back home?"

She stared at him. "Back home as in...home, home?"

He continued to nod. "It's something I've started thinking about." He suddenly walked over the edge of the bed and sat down facing her. "This is between you and me. I didn't even know if I should say anything because I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, but...I'm considering it."

"But…?" She found herself blinking and confused. "You're on the number one bloody team in Germany. You love it there. They love you there. I saw..."

"I do…" he began to say, though he quickly switched to, "I did. I don't know, things have changed. Ever since Richter came on–and this is nothing against him. I think he's a fucking beast, but…" He sighed and looked away. "I'm not living up to my potential with him. He's a one man Beating machine. I need a partner, not to be someone sidekick. I'm better than that."

She knew it; she knew him entirely too well. She took the opportunity to stand from the table and sit beside him on the bed. She wanted a crystal clear understanding of what he was saying.

"My contract's up in a few months when the season's over," he said, glancing over at her. "I was talking to my agent, and he thinks Munich will probably come back with a strong offer to keep me because Richter and I get along–and he doesn't get along with a lot of people. But he also thinks I can use my status as leverage with other teams if I really wanted to break away and find something else. I told him to focus on back home."

She gawked at him. Despite the fact that it was all just talk and hopes, she could barely contain herself. Jack was good enough to get on all of the British and Irish teams without question, but she wasn't sure they would offer him the same kind of money Munich was. Only a few teams in the league could do that–teams like Puddlemere. Were they looking for Beaters?

"But what if Munich's deal is too good to turn down?"

"There's always a chance of that," he said. "But as I said, I'm not looking to be a sidekick. I'm not getting any better with Richter there. Not to mention–" He leaned in and kissed her quite suddenly, taking her off-guard. When he pulled back, he did so ever so slightly, leaving his forehead pressed against hers. "I've got serious incentive to move back home. I want to be with you. And if I come home, I want to make this work."

"I can't believe you're seriously considering this," she said. "Last time we had this talk, you were so insistent on staying."

"I want more now," he said as he kissed her again. "I'm not stupid enough to know that I've gotten really lucky the last year and a half and you haven't moved on. If I keep pushing it, you're going to find someone else."

"I don't want someone else," she said as they kissed again. "You know you're the only person I've wanted since I was seventeen. That hasn't changed."

He managed to pull his mouth away briefly, though she was already working her way down his neck while he was undoing the tie on her dressing robe. "I can't play Quidditch forever, but there's a chance you and I could make it that long."

* * *

Dominique always hated how her time with Jack managed to take her to the highest of highs to the lowest of lows all within a relatively close amount of time. As they woke late the following morning and packed up what little there was to pack, Jack's eleven o'clock Portkey back to Germany was already looming entirely too close. She hated this part.

"Sarah wanted me to ask you if you could get her tickets to a match," she said, as they exited the lift and found themselves in the large marble lobby of the hotel. "She's and the boyfriend are planning a trip around to a few countries this summer, and she said she'd put Germany on the itinerary if you had time for her."

"Of course I have time for her," he said, waving to someone he seemed to know. "I can make time for Sarah. And tell her I'll get her tickets to whatever match she wants. I'd love to see her."

Dominique smiled. "I'll let her know. Cillian–that's the bloke she's seeing–he's into Quidditch, so he'd be keen. He knows a lot about international Quidditch, so he and I have some pretty intense chats about it. He's looking to see a few matches on their trip."

"Have her owl me when she'll be there," he said. "I'll work it out."

She nodded as if to say she'd do that, glancing around at the people passing by on their way in and out. A few Munich staff members were up and about, all of them either nodding, waving, or acknowledging Jack in some way. Tourists and locals alike were popping in and out of the lobby and through the cafe. She caught sight of a girl with pink streaks in her hair sitting at a table very close to the entrance of the restaurant, sipping on coffee. She was sitting with another person, but her attention was entirely on her and Jack standing there.

Dominique looked away. It was all rather strange. Despite growing up around famous people who were often stared at, she personally would never get used to the attention. It always made her feel uncomfortable.

"You alright?" Jack asked.

She nodded. "There's a girl over there, staring. I know she's probably a fan, but it's never not weird."

Jack turned to look, though shrugged it off as the usual sort of thing. "I can't say I'll ever get used to it, but I have learned to not pay attention as much." He looked at his watch, his face falling rather sadly. "I've got a couple of minutes before I have to catch my Portkey."

She frowned. This was always the worst part. He'd be completely tied up the rest of the season, and the way Munich played, into the postseason; she'd be lucky if she saw him again before then. But his contract would be up soon and he was actually contemplating coming home. This time next year, he could very well be back in Britain, and who knew what that meant for them.

"Thank you for coming out," he said, smiling at her. "I had the best night that I've had in ages."

"I told you you'd like it if you let me try that position."

He smirked. "I didn't mean that….Though I did really like that. But no, I obviously meant–"

"I know what you meant," she said with a smile, just as someone suddenly entered the bubble of personal space around them. It caused them both to turn and look, only to see the girl with pink in her hair from before attempting to get their attention rather eagerly. She'd stepped directly up to them, saying something in rapid French that Dominique couldn't barely make out. The girl's brother followed Jack's career? He must have been a fan, but that was all she managed before her friend–some bearded bloke with a hood pulled up on his jacket–started pulling her away. He seemed embarrassed for her overzealous nature and was matching her straight out.

Dominique and Jack exchanged quick looks, with her muttering, "What the fuck?"

Jack shrugged, only looking partly annoyed. He said something about it being mostly normal now and that wasn't even half as bad as some of the fans could get. He shook it off quickly and returned to goodbye mode. "Can we not go nine months without seeing each other?"

"We can certainly try," she offered. "On the condition you promise me to look harder into–"

Even though she had lowered her voice, he was already silently urging her to not say the words. There were a lot of Munich personnel around, even some of the other players were turning up, so she understood. He already knew exactly what she'd wanted to say.

"I will do what I can," he said as one of those staff members approached to give him a pat on the back and said something to him in German. When Jack responded to him–in very decent sounding German, as far as she could tell–she'd only then realized how well he spoke it. He'd come a long way.

"I have to go," he said sadly.

She nodded. "Right. I'll see you when I see you."

"See you when I see you," he repeated, kissing her quickly. She tried to hold onto that moment for as long as possible, but it was over far sooner than she'd liked it to have been. Before she knew it, Jack was giving her hand a quick squeeze and stepping away.

There were a few last smiles and a quick wave before he disappeared around a corner with a collection of other people, all off to catch a Portkey back to Germany. She sighed and looked around the lobby. Back to real life once again. Her mini-holiday had come screeching to a halt, just like that.

She'd wandered around the street outside, had a cup of coffee and window shopped a bit before she caught her Portkey back to England later in the day. Upon returning to her flat, she found it empty and deserted. Sarah, her flatmate, was probably off with her boyfriend–as she usually was. Dominique didn't usually mind having the place to herself, but at the moment, she was actually in the mood for some company. She would have to settle on Sarah's cat, Darcy, who was lurking across the room and glancing casually over in Dominique's direction.

She took to cleaning, organizing, taking a nap, going for a walk–all the things she usually didn't have time to do. On Sunday, the following day, she'd gotten a jump on some of her upcoming work and listened to Holyhead's Quidditch match as they destroyed a still abysmal Chudley. She'd been contemplating going to visit her parents that afternoon, since it had been two weeks, but she'd instead picked up a book she'd been meaning to read and charmed it to hover over her head so that she could lay comfortably on the couch without holding it. She'd gotten about three chapters in when the front door of her place opened.

"Hello," Sarah said in a sing-song way as she entered their flat. She was carrying two bottles of wine, which was generally how she entered their place on any given day. "How was Paris?"

Dominique used her wand to shut her book and let it float down to the sofa. She sat up with a bright smile. "Fantastic."

"How's Jack?" she asked as she headed straight toward her room, disappearing inside as her voice carried, "I can already tell given your glow and that shit-eating grin that you fucked his brains out, so…" She reappeared and held up one of the bottles as if toasting to her. "Cheers to that."

Dominique made a gesture as if to acknowledge that was not untrue, but did nothing more than continue to grin. "I was long overdue."

"It had been awhile for you," she agreed. "Did you even bother trying to exchange any words before trying to ride him, or…?"

"There were a few words. A couple of hellos, at the very least."

Sarah laughed before she headed for the kitchen. "Did you ask him about those tickets that I'd–?"

"Yes," she called back, noticing an owl now appearing out on the window sill and tapping its beak on the glass to get her attention. "He said to owl him and he'll take care of it. Oh, and wait until I tell you what he's been thinking about doing."

"Alright, hold on. I want to hear all about it, but I'm getting wine first. You want some?"

"Sure," she called back as she walked over to the window to let the owl in, watching as it quickly extended it's leg out so that she could take the letter it was carrying. She untied it and the owl fluttered around the open window for a moment before it just as quickly flew away.

"You want the red of the white?" Sarah called from the kitchen.

"Whatever." She was unfolding the folded parchment and noticing the script on the letter was immediately very familiar. It wasn't Jack's untidy, usually smudged handwriting, but the moment her eyes fully recognized who it belonged to, her body started to feel rather numb.

_Hey Nic,_

_It's been a long time. Hope you're doing well. I am. Finally. It's been awhile since I've felt as I could say that._

_Let me start by saying I don't really know what to say to you, but the time has come that I want to say something. I've spent the last few years running and hiding and seeing and living, and I've decided to start slowing down. I'm with someone–someone amazing who makes me want to be better–so I've decided to start doing that. She's convinced me to put my life in order, so I've started to. She's the one telling me to right the wrongs of my past, and because of that, I'm feeling happier and more clear headed than I have in years._

_I've hurt a lot of people and I need to start apologizing. Whether you even care or want to hear me out, I don't know. But I hope you will. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain myself and tell you just how sorry I am._

_Not to sound creepy, but I had the chance the other day when I saw you. You and Jack. You were at the Magique. I'd come looking for Jack, knowing his team was staying there after their match with Paris and hoping to run into him. I'd mentally prepared to see him and hadn't expected you. I wasn't ready to talk to you–not yet. What could I have said? I barely knew what to say to Jack. When you were both there, I lost my nerve._

_You may remember my girlfriend coming up to you–she's got pink in her hair that's hard to miss. She was trying to force the situation and not let me walk away without speaking to you. She knew how hard it was to even get me down there that morning, but I honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. I realized I don't want it to be a surprise and to take you off guard, I'd like to plan to see you. It's why I'm writing you this letter._

_You have every right to ignore this. I've ignored plenty of yours over the years. But I'm hoping you won't. I'm hoping for a lot of things these days. Maybe the next time you're in Paris, we can talk. I'm around._

_Love,_

_Louis_

Dominique tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry there was nothing to actually swallow. She read the letter twice, feeling as if she could cry and scream at the exact same time. This was Louis; Louis was contacting her. Louis had...seen her? He'd been in the same room as her and he hadn't said anything? Where had he been? Why hadn't he spoken to her? What was happening?

"I chose white," Sarah said, reentering the room with two full glasses. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Dominique's face. "What's wrong?"

Dominique said nothing. She couldn't. All she could was slowly hold out the letter for Sarah to take–which she did after she'd set the glasses down and cross the room toward her. It had taken her less than five seconds of glancing it over before she audibly gasped.

"Is that Louis' handwriting?"

Dominique nodded, letting a meek sounding voice escape her. "He's back from the dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The End.
> 
> To everyone who took the time to read this, thank you. Truly, thank you. 
> 
> I spend most of my time over on ff.net since that's where most of my readers are, and it's there I've posted more in depth notes about my future projects, but I do have some more stuff in the pipeline related to this story. Here's hoping if you enjoyed this, I'll see you around for that. :)


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